


My Only Sunshine

by Goldpeaches



Category: The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ghosts, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-06-02 02:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6546076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldpeaches/pseuds/Goldpeaches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard asked Aidan to move in with him and he said yes!<br/>Then an accident changes everything.</p><p>This is a re-write of the movie Ghost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Happily Ever After

“I love that you have a kinky side, but this is getting out of hand,” Aidan complains only half joking. His right hand that has been feeling his way helplessly along the wall goes to the blindfold wrapped around his head instinctively, when he trips, once again on the wonky, worn out flight of stairs.

His left hand clutches Richard’s a little tighter.

“Don’t take it off, yet,” Richard replies. “Trust me, you won’t regret it.”

“I bet I will if I fall down the stairs and break my neck.”

“I won’t let that happen,” Richard promises and Aidan loves how being blindfolded allows him to focus more on Richard’s scent and the sound of his voice. It comforts him in the same way it does when they lie in bed together at night and talk until the deep rumble of Richard’s voice lulls him to sleep. He especially loves pressing his ear against Richard’s chest while he goes on and on about anything from Shakespeare to an article he read about the refugee crisis. 

“Okay, then,” Aidan replies, still not sounding convinced. Of course he knows that Richard would never let him fall, but he pretends to be doubtful just so that Richard pulls him a little closer. 

“Come on. You are telling me to be more spontaneous all the time, so this is me being spontaneous.”

“I meant romantically spontaneous, not creepy,” Aidan clarifies, although he has to admit that he enjoys this. He liked that Richard grabbed him, pushed him in a taxi and never told him where they were going at all. He still has no idea where they are. He thinks they crossed the river, taking them into South London, probably Southwark, but Richard put the blindfold on him before he could verify that. All he knows is that they are indoors and it smells a bit like pet rabbits or hamsters.

Richard replies with a chuckle that makes Aidan think that he has something incredibly romantic in store for him. He is romantic more often than Aidan gives him credit. He puts thought and effort into these gestures, unlike Aidan, who lights a few candles in the bedroom for romance.

He stops when he hears the jangling of keys getting shoved into a lock. Richard takes his shoulders and guides him a little to the left, before slowly untying the knot at the back of Aidan’s head.

“All right,” he says and clears his throat, but doesn’t continue. He simply lets the blindfold fall.

Aidan blinks rapidly for a few times and then takes in the picture in front of him. The open door reveals the inside of a flat. A hideous flat. A granny flat, complete with yellowed flowery wallpaper, a stained raspberry coloured carpet and the awful smell of old lady.

“What is this?”

Richard takes Aidan’s hand and leads him into the flat. It is mostly empty, with only a few odd pieces of old-fashioned furniture.

“So,” Richard says, ignoring Aidan’s question and showing him around. “What do you think?” 

The entire thing is more than just unsightly. It is entirely dreadful. The kitchen has lime green cupboards and a floor that makes him think of a Mondrian painting in shades of puke. 

“The bathroom is pink,” Aidan replies slowly, staring and slightly gobsmacked. He isn’t sure what he is supposed to say or even see here. He assumes that Richard bought some piece of furniture and wants to surprise Aidan with it in a poorly executed plan, but nothing he sees here would even remotely excite him. 

Richard mumbles something that sounds a lot like “That’ll be fixed”.

“What?” Aidan tilts his head to the side and follows Richard like a dog. “What did you say?”

They enter the living room and Aidan has to admit that it is kind of romantic. There is a fire crackling merrily in the open fireplace, with a stack of blankets on the floor in front of it.

“Take a seat.” Richard gestures towards the fire and Aidan considers demanding an answer first, but then decides that it will undoubtedly more fun to find out in the way Richard intended, so he grabs one of the blankets, spreads it out and sits down.

“I know I kept you in suspense and I apologise,” Richard begins and approaches with a bottle of red wine and two glasses. He sits down as well and uses a corkscrew to open the bottle. “Remember that I told you about the legal issues regarding my inheritance?”

Aidan nods his head slowly. He is aware that there is a situation, but he never felt like it was his place to ask about it and it usually wasn’t the first thing on his mind anyway. Every few months Richard would come home from a meeting, grumbling about incompetent lawyers, but it was usually nothing a shag couldn’t fix.

“Well, the issues were resolved last week and this is the result.” Richard makes a wide gesture.

“The furniture?” Aidan asks with a frown. Everything he’s seen so far was either ugly or broken or both. 

“The flat,” Richard clarifies, making Aidan’s jaw drop. Richard always spoke about a “small” inheritance that probably wasn’t worth all the money spent on lawyers, but a flat, even a crappy one, in London is pretty much the opposite of small.

“Cool,” he replies. “What are you going to do with it? Sell it? Let it out?”

“I have got something else in mind, actually.” Richard hands Aidan a glass of wine. “My plan is to give this place a makeover and move in. It is close to the University and the area is changing and becoming a lot younger and hipper.”

“Because a young and hip crowd is so important to you,” Aidan almost chokes on his wine at the thought. Richard prefers to spend his evenings at home, reading and Aidan has trouble getting him out to the pub around the corner for a pint most nights. He can’t imagine him setting great value upon a lively neighbourhood. Sometimes he wonders if Richard wouldn’t be more interested in someone who shares his interest in books and literature. Reading is part of Aidan’s job, and he likes it, but he rarely sits down to read for pleasure. When he reads through a script, he is usually on his feet, making coffee and snacks and getting the mail at the same time.

“Not to me, no,” Richard agrees with a chuckle. “But it might be to you. I was hoping you would consider moving in with me.”

There is a moment of silence, in which Aidan stares at Richard open mouthed and wide eyed.

“I don’t expect an answer right away, of course. Think about it.”

“I don’t have to think about living with you,” Aidan says truthfully. He has pretty much been living with Richard for a while. He has spent more time at his flat than at his own and somehow it worked, even though Aidan knows that he can be a handful and messy. He thought that Richard would hate that about him and ask him to be over less, but Richard takes all of Aidan’s flaws in his stride. “That’s easy.” 

“But?”

“But,” he lowers his voice as if he is about to tell a secret, “the bathroom is pink.”

 

For a few weeks now, Richard has been worried about Aidan. An endless string of auditions that resulted in nothing but rejections had shattered his confidence and deprived him of his usual positive attitude. Giving him a new purpose, seems to have done wonders for him, though, and he often continues to work long after the hired professionals finish for the day. With every strip of wallpaper he rips off the walls of their new flat and with every powder-pink tile he chips away from the bathroom he seems to be getting back to his old self. He usually greets Richard in the evenings covered in grime and sweat, but with a beaming smile on his face.

That is why it hits Richard completely unexpected, to find Aidan in tears in the hallway outside the kitchen one evening. He can’t remember the last time he has seen Aidan cry and he cannot believe that he thought everything was going well, while his boyfriend, his partner was suffering. He cannot believe how blind he must have been.

He drops his worn leather shoulder-bag by the door and crosses the hallway in just a few steps. He places his hands on either side of Aidan’s face so that he can tilt his head up gently.

“I’m okay. I just…” Richard cuts him off before Aidan can go on. He doesn’t want to hear that everything’s fine, that this is just a bad day.

“I had no idea you were so unhappy.” He strokes Aidan’s cheeks with his thumb, smearing the wet tracks on his face. “I am so sorry. What can I do to make you feel better?”

“Nothing,” Aidan replies, wiping his eyes with his hands, which only results in more tears falling. “I honestly just need some air.”

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“No!” Aidan shakes his head vehemently. “Of course not!”

“Then what? What can I do?” It breaks Richard’s heart to see Aidan like this and he would, honestly, do anything for him.

“Well, there is one thing,” Aidan lowers his eyes to the floor and shrugs his shoulders before looking up into Richard’s eyes again.

“Tell me,” Richard demands, nodding encouragingly.

“Well, you could stop your unhealthy obsession with healthy food.” Even through the tears Richard can see Aidan crack up into a grin. “Seriously, I’m cutting onions.” 

He holds up his fingers for Richard to sniff.

“Onions?” Even though he can hear music coming from the kitchen, the occasional sizzle of boiling water spilling over and dripping onto the stove and smell the distinctive scent of fresh onions Richard looks at Aidan, searching for a sign that he isn’t telling the truth, which makes Aidan smile only brighter.

“Onions,” he confirms and pulls Richard in for a hug and a kiss, before mopping his eyes once again, using his sleeve this time. “Thank you. For worrying.”

Richard replies with another kiss. He knows that Aidan has his own head and can take care of himself, but he sometimes feels like Aidan is sacrificing his best years to spend time with an old fart like him. He knows that he isn’t _old_ and it’s not so much the actual age difference in years between them that concerns Richard, it is the difference in how they spend their time that makes Richard feel too old for Aidan. While Aidan likes to go out and be social, go out for a pint and wake up in Glasgow, Richard could easily see himself becoming one of those people who experience the world solely through books. So far he has been able to hide if from Aidan pretty well, he thinks, but he knows that it is only a matter of time before he catches on and leaves and sometimes it makes him turn into a bit of a mother hen, just to make him want to stick around a little longer.

“If you soak the onions in cold water before you cut them, they shouldn’t give you as much trouble.” Richard follows Aidan into their newly installed kitchen and habitually turns down the music by more than half. He finds that, while there is an occasion for confrontational but somewhat catchy punk rock songs about drinking, unemployment, the Roman Catholic Church and the apparently insufferable hardship of being Irish before the economic boom at full volume, preparing a meal isn’t it.

“If you cook they also shouldn’t give me any more trouble.” Aidan hops onto the counter and picks a few slices of cucumber out of the salad bowl, while Richard picks up the knife.

“Admit it, you just want to see me cry,” Richard laughs, to which Aidan shrugs his shoulders innocently and continues to snack on his cucumber slices.

“I’ve never seen you cry,” he says slowly after having thought about it for a moment and nods towards the cutting board. “Not even with those guys. You’re always the gold-medal winner for the stiffest upper lip.”

“Does that bother you?” Richard asks carefully. 

“Nah.” Aidan sneaks his foot around Richard’s hips to pull him between his legs. “I love your lips, stiff or not. And I love your smile.” He runs his thumb over Richard’s bottom lip, before leaning in for a kiss. Sometimes he wishes he could be a little less stoic and come up with something nice to say to Aidan, but basically everything he says comes out as if he really wants to say “you annoy me the least”. “And I’m not fooled by your façade, either. I always know what you’re feeling. And I know you love me as well.” Aidan makes an apologetic face as if he had just spilled Richard’s deepest, darkest secret.

“You’re right about that,” Richard agrees and still, he cannot shake the feeling that there is something off today. Aidan isn’t the only one who is able to read between the lines and look for clues in the things that are left unsaid and there is this look in Aidan’s eyes today speaks volumes.

With a final kiss on his forehead, Richard slips out from between Aidan’s legs to continue cooking. He dumps the onions into the hot pan, takes the potatoes off the heat to drain them and then proceeds to mash them, all the while aware of Aidan’s eyes following his every move.

“You’re very quiet today,” he observes as non-accusatory as he can manage. 

“Yeah, well… em, I guess.” 

Richard puts aside the potatoes and gives Aidan his full attention. Usually that is enough to make him spill whatever is on his mind, when he is in a mood like this. It always scares Richard, who always expects the worse, but he prefers to get things out in the open, before they can turn into real issues. Once again, his instincts are right. After another brief moment of collecting his thoughts, Aidan sighs and looks up at him. 

“Do you think I’m kidding myself with this acting career?” He sneers at the word “career”.

Richard takes a step back, considering his reply carefully. Straight out of Gaiety, Aidan had been cast in a few plays and even had a recurring role on a TV Series in Ireland, but he was unable to continue his success after moving to England. Richard still thinks that it was mostly due to ill timing, bad luck and unfortunate decisions, rather than lack of talent. Naturally that is easier to say from an outsider’s position, but Richard still remembers the night he saw Aidan performing in Frankenstein. The play itself was one of the worst adaptations Richard has ever seen, but Aidan, as Igor, a small and thankless role, stole the show. So much so that Richard went to the stage door after the play to commend the actor for a job well done. He remembers how utterly shocked he was to learn that there had been a beautiful, delightful man hidden underneath the limping, hunchbacked, ratty character. 

“What was the last role you auditioned for?”

Aidan sighs heavily and stirs the onions before responding.

“Dopey. From Snow White. They’re making a musical and I thought I wouldn’t be kicked off the production for my bad singing if I was one of the seven dwarves.” He gives Richard a meaningful look. “They called today. They’re looking for a different type.”

“Don’t you think that there’s your problem!” Richard had been trying to tell Aidan exactly this for a while, but he felt that Aidan might take advice on his career the wrong way, no matter how well intended it was. “You shouldn’t be auditioning for the sixths dwarf out of seven. You should audition for… the king of dwarves.”

“I don’t think the dwarves in Snow White had a monarchy going. I think they were more of a communist society.”

“Forget about the dwarves. Prince Charming. That’s the role you should go for. Brad Majors, Iago or Julius Caesar. Those roles are written for you.”

He honestly believes that it is a tragic waste of Aidan’s talent to stick him in the back of the stage to deliver one or two lines, if any. If only Aidan believed that as well he would have the world on its knees within a week. 

“It’s not that easy,” Aidan stares gloomily into the sizzling pan. “They don’t just give these parts away.”

“If that’s your concern, then, yes, you are kidding yourself. In that case, acting isn’t for you.” It comes out a lot harsher than intended and while Richard doesn’t regret the words, he is sorry about the tone. He just hates to see Aidan waste his potential on minor roles just because he is too scared of failure.

“Yeah, you know what,” Aidan slides off the counter. “I’m really not that hungry anymore.”

“Aidan, come on! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” Richard begins and grabs his arm before Aidan can storm off and hide in the bedroom for the rest of the evening for extensive pouting. He should have expected drama, when he started dating an actor, Richard thinks. “I’m sorry. Honestly.”

“Fine,” Aidan replies reluctantly, and rolls his eyes, but doesn’t put up much struggle, when Richard pulls him close for a kiss.

“What is your next audition?”

Aidan gives him a long-suffering look and sighs before answering.

“Benvolio.”

“That’s Romeo and Juliet,” Richard concludes. “If I know one thing, it’s Shakespeare.” After all, he literally just came home from teaching a class on Elizabethan literature at the University. He turns off the stove. “This will keep until tomorrow. Tonight we’ll get pizza and we’ll sit down and we’ll prepare for your audition. As Romeo.”

“But…” Aidan frowns as he tries to come up with a reason why this is a waste of time, but Richard feels confident that he has a reasonable response for any argument and Aidan seems to understand that as well. He sneaks his arm around Richard and seductively tilts his head to the side. Just enough to whisper into Richards’s ear. “But pizza isn’t healthy.”


	2. The Sneeze Part One

“You were right! You were right, you were so right!”

The front door slams shut, boots are kicked off and Richard just has enough time to push his armchair that has little wheels attached and doubles as his office chair away from his desk before he has a lapful of Irishman curling around him, scattering kisses on his face.

“You were so right and will never not listen to you again!”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Richard replies, chuckling and running his hands up Aidan’s legs to cup his butt. “Just, about what exactly am I right?”

“The audition,” Aidan says with a ‘duh’ tone in his voice. “I went in and told them that I was going to read for Romeo, but the girl at the reception said that auditions for that part had already started and I thought well, that’s it, then. But then I thought, fuck it, I didn’t just spent three days studying for nothing and so I waited for the audition to finish and when the casting people got out, I went for it and did my audition in the lobby.” He pauses to take a breath from talking a mile a minute and place another kiss on Richard’s lips. “I don’t know what happened. It was super awkward and I think they were kind of annoyed at first, but they also kind of liked it as well, because that never happens, I guess.”

“That is brilliant!” Richard beams with pride. He always knew that Aidan had it in him and just needed a little push. “What happened then?”

“I went for a cup of coffee in the coffee shop across the street from the casting office and hung out there for a bit and then one of the people from the casting office came in and when she saw me she told me that they all thought I was good.”

“Well, then, am I looking at the next Romeo?”

“I’m getting to that!” Aidan strokes the back of Richard’s neck tenderly. “So we had coffee and we talked for a bit and she said that she would really love to have me on board, but the final decision wasn’t hers. But she offered to check if there was any news, anyway.” 

“And?” Richard knows that Aidan is taking his time on purpose, just to tease and he deserves a bit of that, because he gets to share good news so rarely, but it is a bit cruel.

“I am going to be Romeo! On Mondays and Sunday afternoons, because that’s when the main guy has his days off. And, I suppose, when he’s sick.”

“You’re the understudy?” Richard frowns at the realisation, but once he notices that Aidan isn’t at all bummed about that, he tries again with a lot more enthusiasm. “You’re the understudy! That is fantastic!”

“I know!” He continues squirming excitedly in Richards lap, inspiring him to sneak his hands under Aidan’s hoodie. 

“Would you like to celebrate?” 

It is a fact that after being in a relationship for more than five years, they have gone from ravishing each other daily – sometimes twice daily – to having sex once a week, if the circumstances were right, once every two weeks if they weren’t. Even right now, the situation isn’t ideal. He has got to grade papers, but he thinks that he can put his work aside for Aidan, even though they just had sex the other day when their new bed was delivered. He would love to do it more often with Aidan, and if he has to make an effort for it, then he is more than happy to do it. He enjoys the sex so much more, now that it is more than jumping each other, anyway. Now that Aidan yells out “come closer” instead of “go deeper”. The meaning behind it is different, the sex is different and Richard loves the intimacy.

The answer to his question is a naughty flick of his lashes paired with a smile and a roll of his hips before he slides off Richard’s lap. He reaches for his hand to pull him to his feet, but Richard remains seated, marvelling at the young man in front of him. Sometimes Aidan reminds him of a puppy dog, loveable, adorable, joyful, always demanding attention, often stumbling over his own feet in his enthusiasm and sometimes falling flat on his face and needing Richard to pick him back up again. And then there are moments like this one, when he is utterly gorgeous and in control. When he is all dark eyes and seductive smiles and long, graceful limbs, when Richard cannot believe his luck. Moments like this, when he isn’t sure how he is going to make it all the way to the bedroom. Then again, maybe they won’t have to.

Aidan sinks down onto his knees, when he realises that Richard isn’t going to get up and reaches out to unbutton the cardigan and the shirt he is wearing underneath simultaneously before pushing the fabric off his shoulders.

He always feels a little shy when he undresses in front of Aidan and is made painfully aware of the ten year age gap between them. While he goes to the gym and eats well to keep his body in shape, there are things that cannot be stopped, namely the grey hair that started appearing in his beard and is now making its way down.

Aidan doesn’t seem to notice or care. He is biting his bottom lip, trying to decide where to kiss first. He goes for Richard’s neck, straight to the spot that always makes him melt. He pulls Aidan back onto his lap. The chair is another example of how well the two of them worked together as a team. Richard had been searching for an office chair that was comfortable enough to sit at his desk for hours and couldn’t find what he was looking for until Aidan suggested buying an actual armchair. A large, cozy piece of furniture which they updated with the wheels from Richard’s old office chair to make it easy to move. He can’t help but smile when it becomes clear, once more, that his purchase paid off, as it allows Aidan to kneel comfortably with his legs on either side of Richard’s.

“We’re celebrating your success, shouldn’t I do this to you?”

“Oh,” Aidan breathes into Richard’s ear, his hands travelling down to fumble with the fly on his trousers. “You’ll be doing all kinds of things to me.” 

The words in combination with the hot air ghosting over his skin make Richard shiver and gasp. He reaches his hands around Aidan, who is far too clothed for his taste, and tugs his hoodie up and over his head. 

Once the jumper is off Aidan gives Richard that beautiful, beaming smile that makes his entire face light up and impossible to resist. Richard reaches up, brushing the curls out of Aidan’s face with both hands before he pulls him in for a kiss hot enough to warm up half of London on this unusually cold evening. 

He could continue with just, just kissing Aidan and have him grind against him for hours, it is so good, but Aidan clearly has other plans. His fingertips trail over Richard’s chest, making him inhale sharply when they catch on a nipple. Aidan doesn’t waste much time teasing, though. Only a few flicks are all Richard gets before his hands move once again down to work on the button and zipper of Richard’s jeans. He opens them just wide enough to slip his hand inside and take a gentle hold of Richard’s cock.

Richard loses himself in the touch for a moment, closing his eyes and allowing his head to fall back against the chair.

“Do you want to take me to the bedroom and have me stretched out on the bed for you,” Aidan whispers into Richard’s hair. His accent as thick as usually only a copious amount of alcohol can get it, telling Richard how much he is enjoying himself. “Or do you want to have me right here on the chair?”

“The chair is good,” Richard replies, his own voice a little hoarse. “But we’re going to have to get up to fetch…”

Richard is cut off before he can finish by Aidan gesturing towards the desk.

“Middle drawer.” 

Frowning, Richard stretches to open the drawer and, between highlighter pens and post its, he finds a tube of lube. He turns to look at Aidan with a raised eyebrow.

“What? I get bored and miss you when you’re teaching your evening class.”

“Really?” Richard leans in to catch Aidan’s bottom lip between his teeth. He prefers to take care of things in the shower, where there is no mess to deal with, but the thought of Aidan sprawled out in Richard’s chair, touching himself is an incredible turn on. “Show me what you do.”

Aidan’s fingers tighten around Richard’s cock as he half moans, half sighs. He gets rid of his jeans in a manoeuvre that should, for safety reasons, have been left to a professional stunt double. 

“I usually start by finding something really hot on the computer, but it looks like I won’t have to search today.” He strokes Richard’s face affectionately and receives another kiss in response. “I also put down a towel for this, because I don’t want to make a mess of your chair. This is going to be messy.”

Usually Aidan’s thoughtfulness would have been a big turn on for Richard, but today he mutters “Fuck the chair”. He doesn’t care about it as long as Aidan continues talking and touching himself at the same time. Fascinated he watches Aidan putting on a show for him. Stroking himself, slipping lubed-up fingers into his body and rocking against them. Richard does what he dares to help without disturbing, squeezing Aidan’s arse, biting gently and moaning encouragingly until he trembles in Richard’s lap with the need for release.

“Richard,” he moans, his eyes closed, dark lashes fluttering against flushed cheeks. He blindly searches Richard’s mouth, who grabs the back of his neck a little rougher than he usually would and slipping his tongue into Aidan’s mouth hungrily. “Please, I’m ready for you now.”

Richard doesn’t need to be told twice. He pushes his trousers down just far enough and grabs the tube of lube again. He slides down in his chair to make the position they are attempting possible.

With his eyes still closed and panting in desperate little breaths, Aidan lowers himself down on Richard’s cock. Slowly at first, as the tip goes in, stretching him, then a little quicker until Richard is buried inside him all the way. 

“Fuck…” He has an expression of both torture and pleasure on his face. “Don’t move. Richard. Don’t move or I swear I’ll…”

In spite of his own request, Aidan makes a frustrated little sound and rocks his hips hard against Richard. It is the most beautiful Richard has ever seen him, with his cheeks pink, his lips trembling and his hair sticking to his forehead. His cock is rubbing against Richard’s stomach and he wants to wrap his hand around it and stroke, but not yet. He knows exactly when it is time for that. For now he curls his arms around Aidan’s back, allowing him to lean back with the unspoken but unequivocal promise to keep him from falling. 

Aidan is bucking against Richard hard and vigorously and just the sight and the sound of him sucking in breath after breath is enough to make Richard want to explode, but, again, it is not time for that, yet.

With his teeth clenched to stay in control of his body, Richard lets Aidan have fun until his legs succumb to the strain the up and down motion is putting on them. Whimpering at his inability to go on, Aidan leans forward again, leaning into Richard for support.

“I love you,” he whispers into Richard’s neck and that is his cue. It is Aidan’s way of saying that he is done playing. Fucking the way they just did is brilliant, but there is nothing Richard enjoys more than making love to his partner and making him feel loved and cared for.

He lifts them both off the chair and, a little clumsily, gets them onto the floor. His left hand cradles the back of Aidan’s neck, while his right hand starts stroking him with the most delicate touch in time with his thrusts into him.

“God, yes, Richard,” Aidan purrs. “That’s it.”

“Are you going to come for me?” He asks and Aidan nods so enthusiastically, it makes Richard smile even wider. God, he loves the kid.

He picks up the pace a little and when he finally allows himself to let go, he makes sure that Aidan comes with him, screaming and crying out in pleasure until they both collapse into a heap on the carpet.

 

“How do you do it?” Aidan asks, once they had a chance to catch their breath and Richard rolled off him. He snuggles against Richard, he carefully avoiding getting any of the mess on his stomach on him. Richard appreciates that more than he should. It took him a while to accept the fact that sex can get messy, especially once the commitment is made to forego condoms, and he has come so far that he doesn’t care anymore if _things_ get on him in the heat of the moment. But once the moment is over, he prefers not to encourage uncleanliness. “How do you always know exactly what I need?”

It’s been almost six years, Richard thinks a little amused, but doesn’t say it. Instead he chuckles and brushes the damp hair off Aidan’s forehead.

“Lucky guesses,” he replies and Aidan hums thoughtfully.

“Remember what you said to me after the first time we did it?”

“Sorry,” they both say simultaneously, with Richard pretending to be exasperated more than he actually is.

“I wasn’t sure if I had hurt you. Your caterwauling certainly didn’t help.”

“You mean the three hundred times you asked me if I was okay left you still wondering?” Aidan smiles at the memory. It is one of his favourite things to bring up and Richard really isn’t annoyed to hear about it again and again, because he knows how much it means to Aidan. Back then, Aidan wasn’t used to it that someone he slept with really, honestly cared about him anymore. His relationshiops were much like his acting career, a how-not-to-guide of bad decisions. That someone could honestly care about him was something he had to learn after a series of short-term relationships and one-night-stands and Richard was happy to teach him. It seems like such a long time ago, now, but Aidan still doesn’t seem to take it for granted.

“Clean up?”

“Middle drawer,” he says again, groaning and stretching and entirely unwilling to get up. Richard gives him a long, contemplating look, before he sits up to reach into the drawer one more time and coming up with wet wipes.

“You’ve got a pretty good set up here, don’t you? What else do you have in there?” He wonders why, in the two weeks they have lived in the new flat, he never looked in that drawer. Probably because he has all the things he needs carefully organised in the top drawer. “Snacks!”

“Always prepared.” Aidan gives him a half-correct Boy Scout salute before taking the wipes from Richard and cleaning up. Once he is satisfied with the results, he reaches his arms out for Richard. “Come back here.”

Even though Richard isn’t particularly fond of the idea of lying down on the ground again, when they have a perfectly fine sofa and a large bed just a few steps away, the day he can say no to Aidan when he has that particular look on his face has yet to come.

So, instead of complaining, he grabs a blanket that has been sitting on top of a box that still needs unpacking and drapes it over them, after lying down.

The blanket is covered in dust from the move and the drilling Aidan did the day before, when he set up the bookcase. The dust falls down on them like snowflakes, making Aidan sneeze once, twice.

“Excuse me.” Richard notices the expecting look on Aidan’s face and shakes his head just a little.

“People don’t say ‘bless you’ anymore,” he replies.

“Rude people don’t. It’s polite to say it.”

“No it isn’t.” It isn’t the first time they have had this conversation, either. “I wouldn’t comment on any other involuntary sounds coming from your body, would I?”

“No. But it’s still rude,” Aidan insists.

“Neither one of us is particularly religious, so it wouldn’t mean anything, anyway,” Richard argues, mainly, because he hates these meaningless exchanges. There is the sneeze itself, followed by an apology, followed by the blessing, followed by a thank you. It seems unnecessarily elaborate for something so trivial and he fully subscribes to the motion of changing the etiquette on this particular issue. 

“It’s still polite and my mother taught me to be polite.”

Richard opens his mouth to remind Aidan of the fact that his parents came from a completely different generation, where it was acceptable to use a certain word to describe people of colour and that doesn’t mean that it is okay to do that today. But he doesn’t want to open that can of worms. Not now, with Aidan cuddled against him and knowing exactly that he just wants to tease. For reasons Richard has yet to figure out, he loves to have these pointless discussions, about all kinds of things.

“Aidan,” he says patiently, to bring the conversation to an end. It was interesting to discuss the first time it happened, but not anymore. “May God bless you.”

“Thank you. See? That wasn’t so hard.” There is an inappropriate glee in Aidan’s voice that tells Richard that he got exactly what he wanted. Not the blessing, he could care less about that and they both know it. Richard indulging him, letting him have the win and Richard thinks that he just needs a win sometimes, no matter how insignificant. He shakes his head and pulls Aidan closer. The shifting kicks up new dust and this time it is Richard sneezing.

“Go on, say it,” he sighs before Aidan can even open his mouth.


	3. Romeo Must Die

“Dear God, Aidan, where are you? The drunk cell?”

“Ah-haha. Funny. No. What you hear is Gary. The main Romeo,” Aidan replies drily over the unpleasant sound of his colleague vomiting in the bathroom of the Circle Theatre.

It is the premiere night of their play and after feeling ill even before the show started and blaming it on nerves, things got worse for Gary. He made it through the play up to the intermission, but then made a dash for the loo and hasn’t come out since. While everyone is busy resetting the stage and Juliet’s hair, Aidan has taken it upon himself to check up on his colleague, partly concerned, partly wondering if he should start changing into costume.

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Yeah, ehm,… actually, hang on a second.” Aidan takes the phone away from his hear to tap gently against the stall door. “You all right, mate? I’ll just be outside for a minute, if you need anything.”

The response is a groan that sounds enough like a “yes” and is reassuring enough for Aidan to slip out of the bathroom where he can talk without Gary overhearing his conversation.

“It’s unfortunate for Gary, but I think that means that I’ll get to go on stage for the second act.”

Even though he feels terrible for Gary, the thought of being allowed to be on stage for the premiere is incredibly thrilling. 

“That’s brilliant, Aid!” Aidan can hear the smile in Richard’s voice.

“I wish you could be here.”

Richard had to attend a monthly informal but still pretty mandatory staff meeting today that kept him from attending the premiere. Initially Aidan wasn’t bothered about that, since Richard swore to come and see him for his first scheduled performance as Romeo on Sunday. Now, however, he would really love to have Richard there.

“So do I,” Richard replies. “Listen, I only snuck out of the meeting to take the call. I have to go back in. But if we finish quickly, I’ll try to get to the theatre. Maybe I’ll be able to catch the end.”

“That’d be nice. But don’t kill yourself getting here.”

It would mean the world to Aidan to have Richard there, but he understands that Richard has to attend these meetings and cannot just walk away, because some actor had dodgy seafood.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Richard promised. “Now go knock them off their chairs. You’re going to be marvelous, Love.”

“Thanks,” Aidan replies, smiling at the phone. Calling him “Love” is basically an outburst of emotions from Richard and he appreciates that. “Love you. Talk to you later!”

He ends the call and braces himself before returning to the bathroom, where Gary is still being violently sick and therefore increasing Aidan’s chances to get to act immensely.

 

The longer Aidan peeks through a gap in the curtains as the audience clears out of the theatre, the more it becomes obvious that no one is staying behind for him. Richard isn’t there and even though he knew that it was a possibility, it still hurts. It hurts because for the first time in a long time he had fun being on stage and he thinks he did well and he would have loved to show Richard, who patiently sat through all of his sucky plays, that he can actually do something good. Something to be proud of.

He checks his phone once again, but there is no response to his message he sent Richard right after the play was over. Only one, from his friend Adam, congratulating him.

“Hey, a few of us are heading out to The Bull’s for a pint to celebrate.” Alejandra, the actress who plays Juliet throws her arm around Aidan from behind enthusiastically, excited from the great response they all received from the audience. With the other hand, she hands him a glass of champagne. “Do you want to come? It’s eighties night, should be fun.”

Aidan doesn’t have to give it much thought. Going out for a drink sounds a lot better than heading home alone and waiting for Richard to show up.

“Yeah, thanks.” He takes the glass and once he’s made sure that the house is really and truly empty, he takes a sip and follows Alejandra to meet with the others and head to the pub that is just a short walk away.

 

One pint turns into a few and Aidan is glad he went out. The music is kind of hit and miss with the best of the eighties and the pub looks tacky, but he has to applaud them for going all the way with the eighties theme. The staff are dressed in more neon spandex than should legally be allowed, but they look the part. It doesn’t matter, though, because it is the conversation rather than the surroundings that make the evening so successful. 

“So, Aidan,” Julia, the understudy for the part of Juliet asks, pointing her empty shot-glass from herself to Alejandra. “Now that you’ve had the pleasure of kissing both of us, who’s better?”

“Oh, no,” Aidan replies, raising his hand in surrender. “No, no, no. No way am I not going to answer that.”

“Chicken,” Mike who plays Tybald snorts. “Ladies, I would love to give you an honest opinion.” He reaches out for Julia in a semi-serious attempt to kiss her. She bats him away, laughing.

“Now I’m kind of curious as well,” Alejandra tilts her head to the side and raises and eyebrow at Julia. The idea takes a moment to sink in, but when it does, Julia gives her a little nod and then they move towards each other slowly.

“Oh, my God, Aidan, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Mike asks with endearing excitement, slapping Aidan’s knee.

“Yup,” Aidan agrees. He understands. If he were straight, he would probably be all over that scene as well. The visual impact of the classic English rose Julia locking lips with the Puerto Rican princess Alejandra is certainly appealing.

“I’d say it’s a one-all draw,” Alejandra concludes once they part.

“That’s not fair!” Mike whines. “Now Aidan’s been kissed and you two and I am the only one who hasn’t had a kiss at all.”

“Well that’s not right!” Aidan replies, pretending to be outraged. “Come here.” He grabs the back of Mike’s neck and bumps their lips together for something that hardly qualifies as a kiss. It has the girls howling with laughter anyway and Mike wiping his mouth on his sleeve a little annoyed.

“Gross, mate!”

“You asked for it!” Julia laughs and then returns her attention back to Aidan. “So do you have a girlfriend or something?”

“Or something,” Aidan confirms. “It’s actually…”

“The good ones are always taken,” Julia interrupts, before he can explain his situation, pouting at her misfortune. “Do you have a picture?”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and as he opens his photos folder, he notices a missed call and a message from Richard. He ignores them for a moment to find a photo of him and Richard looking happy and cute and hands the phone to Julia.

“Oh my!” Julia blinks at the picture. “That is one ugly woman. But pretty decent for a guy. Well done, Aidan!”

He smiles, and observes the other’s reactions carefully as his phone gets passed around.

“So, you’re actually gay?” Mike asks finally.

“I actually am.” Aidan is a little amused that it has been such a mystery to everyone. He never made a big announcement, but he never hid it and he thinks it’s funny that people just assume that he is straight. He takes his phone back to check the message.

“Coming to pick you up. On the tube to Southwark now.” 

“Then I’ve just made out with a gay bloke. Neat.” Mike takes a sip from his drink. “But I’ve always wondered, when you’re shagging, how do you decide who… has to be the woman?”

“We flip a coin,” Aidan replies, trying not to cringe at the question. He is all for educating straight people on how gay sex works, but some questions are best left unanswered. “I just have to make a call.”

He gets up from his seat to find a quieter place to return Richard’s call.

“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t get away earlier. Linda kept bringing up issues to discuss.”

“That’s because she’s ugly and no one is waiting for her at home, wanting to shag her,” Aidan replies. He has seen Linda and he knows that it’s the truth. 

“Unlike me?” Richard asks.

“Well, I’m not exactly waiting at home… but, hey, I always want to shag you, so that’s a start,” Aidan replies, grinning to himself. “Where are you now?”

“Where am I?” Richard laughs “I’m on my way to your theatre now. I was hoping you’d still be there, after you didn’t get my call. Just getting off the tube at Southwark. Where are _you_? It sounds like you’ve gone back in time a few decades.”

“And when the Rain begins to fall” is playing in the background, which is, inexplicably, both a hit and a miss at the same time.

“I’m out with some colleagues. A place called The Bull. It’s not far from the station.”

“Good. I’ll find it and meet you there,” Richard replies. “Unless you don’t want me to. If you’d rather be with your colleagues, I’ll head home.”

Aidan looks over to the booth where he had been sitting just a moment ago. Alejandra had climbed off her seat and started dancing, pulling Mike up on his feet as well.

“You know,” he sighs at the state of them. Lightweights, the whole lot. “I’d rather spend time with you. I think there is a takeaway just opposite the station. Why don’t you get something to eat for us? I’ll finish my drink and meet you there in five?”

“If you’re okay with a takeaway to celebrate,” Richard replies and there is pride in his voice as he continues. “So, how was it?”

“Brilliant! Even if I sucked, I had so much fun! I wish I could do it every single day!” He realises that that is pretty much what the life of an actor entails, but so far, his life hasn’t been like that. “I’ll tell you all about it when I see you.”

He finishes the call and his beer and says goodbye to his friends. They moan a bit about him leaving, but once he has made it abundantly clear that he is about to get rogered by his fit boyfriend they let him go without further complaint.

It is a cold, windy night, but the fresh air feels good after the stuffy heat in the pub. Aidan pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his coat as he turns into a small street that will, in theory, take him around the pub and back onto the main road. He pats his pockets for a lighter and just when he thinks he has to go back in and ask for a light he finds a box of matches. The wind, however blows out the flame twice before he can light his cigarette, so he finds shelter behind a large bin. His third attempt is successful. When he turns around, breathing out a cloud of smoke, he jumps, startled. Someone has snuck up on him, standing a little too close.

“Gimme your wallet,” the bloke, not older than sixteen demands. It is only then Aidan notices the knife he is holding. It is large and sharp, looking like a bread knife, only with a smooth blade. The tip, aimed at Aidan, is trembling in the kid’s hand.

“Are you seriously going to stab me for twenty quid with a knife you nicked from your mother?” Aidan asks. Yeah, that was dumb, he realises that as soon as the words leave his mouth, but then again, what does this kid think he’s doing? Aidan could probably knock him out with one punch.

He can see the wheels turning in the boy’s head, before he steadies himself.

“Give it!”

“All right. It’s cool,” Aidan reaches around slowly to pull his wallet out of his back pocket, raising his other hand, holding the cigarette, in a non-threatening way.

“And the smokes, too,” the kid demands, once Aidan has dropped his wallet into his grubby little hand.

“What?” Now _that_ Aidan finds rather unreasonable, but the kid still holds the knife up, so he reaches into his pocket one more time. Just as he is about to pull out the half empty pack, there is a loud bang and the sound of a pissed off cat and for a second Aidan thinks the kid punched him in the stomach. There is a sudden, searing pain, as if boiling water had been injected into his abdomen. He looks down to see the knife, but only the handle of it, sticking out of him. The kid’s hand is still curled around it in a white knuckled grip. He looks up and finds that the kid is staring at him, terrified.

“Oh, fuck,” the boy whispers and all of a sudden he doesn’t sound so tough anymore. “Fucking cat. Gave me a fucking scare! I didn’t…”

Aidan wants to say something, but he is so shocked, he can’t even scream in agony, even though he feels like he should. The pain is so intense it makes any voluntary movement impossible. This is not like the movies, where the hero gets stabbed and still manages to take out the villain and run a couple of blocks. When his legs give out, he can’t even make the decision to drop backwards, away from the knife. Instead he impales himself even deeper on it, as he falls towards the kid.

The boy twists and wriggles the knife to get it out from underneath Aidan’s ribs or sternum. Something solid that is in the way. He frees it eventually and without the boy holding him up, Aidan crashes to the ground. He hits his head on the cobblestone, but not hard enough to pass out. He hears the boy running away and the music coming from the pub and yet he can’t make a sound. Only small whimpers come out, as he curls into a protective ball, something primeval, something instinctive as the acid that must have replaced his blood, eats away at his insides.

He lies like that for at least two songs, only writhing with every wave of pain radiating from his stomach, until he hears footsteps approaching rapidly. For a moment he thinks the kid came back for his smokes, and the irony of smoking really killing him this time isn’t lost on him. It isn’t the kid, though but someone else, bending over him, shaking him gently.

“Aidan? Aid? Look at me, Love.” He recognises Richard’s voice and even though it seems to come from far away, his eyelids flutter open with great effort. “What happened?”

Aidan focusses on Richard’s face. Anything to distract from the pain.

“Knife,” he manages, between breaths sucked in through clenched teeth. He can see the realisation on Richard’s face, when he pulls his hand away from Aidan’s stomach and sees the blood on it. He can see the moment that realisation breaks Richard’s heart. “I’m sorry.”

“We need an ambulance.” Richard fumbles for his phone.

“I’m really sorry,” Aidan says again, speaking barely above a whisper. He never meant to do this to Richard. “Will you hold me?”

It is pure agony to be pulled into Richard’s lap, and he screams out this time, raw and entirely consumed by pain.

“You’re going to be fine,” Richard whispers into Aidan’s hair that is damp with sweat, while he waits for someone to answer the phone.

He can feel his eyelids getting heavier as he listens to Richard rattling off information. A 32 year old man. Stabbed with a knife in the stomach. Between, I don’t know, five and ten minu…

“No, Aidan, don’t fall asleep, now. Come on, keep looking at me.” Richard’s voice has a shrill, panicked undertone as he slaps Aidan’s cheek just hard enough to pull him back to reality.

“Yeah, but barely,” Richard tells the person on the other end of the line and then his voice takes a dark and dangerous tone as he barks into the phone. “Are you fucking kidding me? London is one of the biggest fucking cities in the world, so don’t you dare tell me that!”

Aidan frowns. He has never heard Richard swear like that in his life. 

“Get someone here. Now!” He ends the call and drops the phone carelessly. “They’ll send an ambulance. It looks like it will be a few more minutes, okay?”

“Cold, Richard.” 

With the utmost care, not to move Aidan, Richard takes off his own coat and covers Aidan’s upper body with it.

“Better?”

Aidan’s lip twitches in an attempt at a smile.

“Have to tell you something,” he whispers, hoping that Richard will understand him, because he can only say it once. “I kissed another man today. Just as a joke. Just a friendly kiss.” Richard brushes some hair out of Aidan’s face and nods. He believes that, when Aidan says it was a friendly kiss, it honestly was just that. “I can’t let that be my last kiss.” He is stuttering now, trying to force air into his lungs after every syllable, but his body not co-operating. The wind carries some cheers from the pub to them, as intro of “Total Eclipse of the Heart” starts playing. His eyes sting and when he blinks he can feel tears falling.

“It won’t be, Aid. It won’t, do you hear me?”

“Will you kiss me?”

 

Richard cradles the back of Aidan’s head in his hand and leans down for a kiss. His body is jerking and seizing in his arms and he can feel Aidan sob and gasp for air against his lips. 

“I love you, Aidan.”

The reply is barely audible, but even if Aidan hadn’t said anything, Richard would have been sure that Aidan feels the same way about him. 

“Hold on, Love, help is coming,” Richard tells Aidan again and again, even though he has a feeling that he is too far gone to hear him. He still needs to hear some reassurance for himself. He cradles Aidan close to his chest, feeling his grip on his upper arm become weaker and weaker. 

“Don’t you dare leave me,” he growls, truly feeling angry. “It’s not fair. What am I supposed to do without you?” The image of returning to the flat, _their_ flat without Aidan today flashes before his eyes and it is almost too much to handle and he almost lies down on the ground next to Aidan to die as well. It is only a few seconds before his brain catches up. He can’t allow this to happen. 

Gently he lowers Aidan onto the ground and takes his pulse. He can feel it, weak, but still there. Relieved he bends down to press his lips against Aidan’s forehead. He can hear an ambulance wailing, approaching rapidly and it gives him reassurance. They only have to keep fighting on their own for a few more moments before help gets to them. They can do it.

“You’re doing so well, Love,” he whispers against his skin. “We’re going to get through this.”

When he pulls Aidan back into his arm, Richard’s coat falls off him, exposing the wound. The blood looks almost black in the orange glow of the street lights and it is still seeping out of the hole in his stomach. Slightly to the left, but barely off centre, really. 

“I’m so sorry, Love,” he whispers, before placing his hand on the hole to stop the bleeding. He is sure that it must hurt like hell, but Aidan shows no reaction to the additional pain. Richard stays like that, huddled over Aidan, rocking him gently, until the ambulance arrives and he is pulled away.

He crawls away reluctantly to give them space to do their job, but remains close enough to reach out for Aidan when he wakes up. Richard expects it to happen any minute as he watches the paramedics and answers their questions as best as he can. Everything seems to happen in slow motion, but too quickly at the same time. He feels like only two seconds have passed between him telling them what happened and them loading Aidan in the ambulance. 

One of the paramedics tells Richard to get in as well and once they strapped him into the bench seat they speed off, sirens wailing.

 

Left behind at the scene of the crime is a pool of blood, Richard’s coat, the police, who have since arrived and, standing a few feet away, Aidan.


	4. Post Mortem

“He was brought here by ambulance in full arrest. We used all of our capabilities and tried to revive him for half an hour, but we were unsuccessful. I'm very sorry. His injury was too severe. He died.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” His head is flat out refusing to acknowledge the words, but his body responds anyway. It hurts. His chest is so tight, it is impossible to breathe and he involuntarily hunches over to continue sucking air into his lungs. It hurts, his chest, his heart, it hurts so much. He clutches his arm against his chest to ease the pain, but it does nothing to make it better. Someone might as well have stuck a knife into his own body, it hurts so much.

He sucks in another laboured breath, before he can stand up straight again. When he thought about the news being bad, he pictured himself punching walls, sinking down on his knees, screaming “nooooo!”, like they do in the movies, but now that the moment has come, it wouldn’t even begin to express how he feels. Nothing can express his devastation, so instead, he focusses back on what the doctor tells him. He sounds like a cassette player with a dying battery. 

“Can I see him?” Richard interrupts, not worrying about being rude for once. 

“I’m going to have to check for you,” the doctor says, not exactly unsympathetic.

Richard gives the doctor a curt nod. He knows, he _knows_ that there is no misunderstanding, no mistake, no prank. He felt the life go out of Aidan, but he still doesn’t believe it. He needs to see, with his own eyes, because in spite of everything he learned now, there is some hope left in him. Somewhere there is a voice in the back of his head telling him that Aidan cannot be dead, because that would be absurd. If Aidan died, the world would fall into chaos and end, he is sure of that.

While waiting for the doctor to return, Richard paces up and down the corridor instead. When he walks to the far end, he can see the entrance, where they just bring in a drunk girl with a gushing headwound. He supposes that this is just another regular Saturday night at A&E. Only his own life changed forever. For everyone else, the sun will rise again tomorrow, only his light has been taken away from him.

“Hello darkness, my old friend.” He shakes the thought out of his head and focuses all his attention on his breathing, in and out as slowly as he can to stay calm, fearing that he will lose the uphill battle with his composure if he breaks his concentration. He wants to scream from the pain and the injustice. He wants to cry and punch something, but he forces himself to keep calm and strong, promising himself to be allowed to fall apart entirely once he gets home. But not now. Not yet.

The doctor returns after a few minutes that seem a lot longer and seeing him again makes the tightness in Richard’s chest grow worse, as if his insides were bound with zip ties that are tightened gradually, cutting into his flesh.

 

“We moved him to another room where you can take all the time you need,” the doctor explains with a soft tone in his voice and opens the door between the waiting area and the treatment rooms. Richard follows him, walking past the room where they treated Aidan. He stops to look into the round window in the door. The room looks frantic. A mess, with gloves, empty little plastic packages, gauze, and all kinds of equipment scattered all around a gurney. Richard can see the large amount of blood on the sheet and on the floor. One the one hand he wishes he hadn’t seen it, because it is such a frightening sight. On the other hand, he feels like it showed that they really tried everything and didn’t give up on Aidan. They fought for him and it is strangely consoling.

They put Aidan in a small room with not much in it. He is lying on a gurney, covered up to his chest by a white sheet. A chair has been placed by his side.

“We had to leave the Tracheal tube in place,” the doctor explains before Richard can ask about the tube in Aidan’s mouth. “It is hospital policy if there might be an investigation.”

Richard approaches the body slowly. There is still a sense of incomprehension. This isn’t the man he knew. This isn’t the man with the always tanned skin and handsome face and almost permanent smile. This pale, lifeless body in front of him looks like a mask of what Aidan once was. Like a wax-figure for the museum. Almost like a sob, he has to suck in a breath of air at the thought that Aidan would never have his own wax-figure or get his handprints onto the walk of fame. He will never have the career he always dreamed of. His warm brown eyes that always radiated good humour and mischief are now closed for the final time and he looks peaceful. It looks as if he just slipped away, like he is sleeping, not like he was murdered and suffered unimaginable pain. And still, Richard thinks he can stare and stare and this still would not be the man he knew.

Gently, Richard reaches out a hand to touch Aidan’s cheek, stroking his thumb over his cheekbone the same way he has done countless of times before. This time, there is no response, though. No smile, no flutter of lashes. He moves his hand down, to run his thumb over Aidan’s lips, slightly parted around the tube in his mouth. There is no response. He simply isn’t there anymore.

Richard sinks down onto the chair, unable to stand any longer.

“What about… organ donation? He would have wanted that.” He remembers talking about that with Aidan once.

“Due to the autopsy we are, unfortunately, not able to honour that wish.”

Richard doesn’t respond. He doesn’t understand why there needs to be an autopsy. The cause of death seems to be pretty obvious. 

Cause of death. 

“Is there anything… I could have done?” He buries his hand into Aidan’s hair. He always loved running his hands through it, watching the dark strands curl around his fingers as if they had a mind of their own and didn’t want to let go of Richard’s hand.

The doctor comes closer, considering his reply. 

“The knife did quite a bit of damage we could have repaired, but it cut through a large blood vessel in his liver as well, which led to a rapid loss of blood from internal bleeding. Even if he had been on the operating table much quicker, I doubt we could have saved him.” He pauses to watch Richard’s hand stroking Aidan’s head. “You were with him, he wasn’t alone, that must have been a great comfort.”

There is little relief in those words. Even if that was the case, Richard was still too late. He shouldn’t have left Aidan alone on his big night. He should have been there.

He nods distantly, when the doctor says that he is going to step out to give Richard a moment alone.

Six years. His love for nearly six years is gone. The man who loved to have pointless arguments, and play his music too loudly. Who was always fidgeting and shifting when forced to sit still for a moment. Who was messy and chaotic and a nightmare at organizing his bills and insurance papers and temperamental, but who was also warm and caring. Who flooded every room with sunshine and managed to coax Richard out of his shell with his extrovert, joyful personality. The man who made it so easy to love him in spite of his flaws was gone and Richard was left behind, alone.

“What now, Aid?” Richard whispers into the much too quiet room. “What am I going to do without you?”

He takes Aidan’s hand and presses his lips against his knuckles. This body doesn’t even smell like Aidan anymore. He smells like hospital and it is devastating that they didn’t even leave Richard that one thing, that familiar scent he loved. He could cry from that alone, but no tears fall. He feels entirely numb and too deeply shocked to cry. All he can do is sit by Aidan’s side and stroke his hand and hope, irrationally, illogically that this could somehow be reversed.

 

It is almost four in the morning when Richard returns home. Aidan is waiting for him, sitting in Richard’s chair. He gets up when he hears the door open.

“Please, Richard, please see me,” he begs, just to check. It has taken him a while and a lot of screaming and waving in front of strangers to figure out that they cannot see or hear him. That he is honestly and truly dead. His body is, at least, and he, whatever he is now, has been left behind.

He feels dreadful. He pities himself for having died too young, left feeling that he could have made more with what time had been given to him, but he feels even worse for the people he left behind. For causing Richard and his family grief.

He watches Richard place a police business card on the sideboard by the door, along with a brown paper envelope. Aidan can see his phone and keys when he tries to have a look into the envelope without pointlessly attempting to touch it.

Richard then turns around and takes a long look at a large collage that takes up almost the entire wall, displaying their favourite photos. They spent an entire Sunday downloading the pictures from their phones, printing them, cutting them into squares and gluing them onto a massive piece of cardboard. 

There are silly snapshots of them cooking and dressed up for Halloween and New Year’s Eve parties. Their first Christmas tree and Aidan’s thirtieth birthdays. Pictures of them hugging and kissing and looking incredibly happy. Holiday photos in the Lake District, Paris and Greece and one of Richard freaking out over the Long Room at Trinity’s Old Library building in Dublin. Aidan remembers having to drag Richard out of there quite sternly.

He can’t bear to look at the evidence of their life together any longer and is glad when Richard turns away as well, with a sigh that sounds nothing like his usual sighs. It is more of a moan.

He walks into the living room, switches on the lights, looks around and then switched the lights off again. He repeats the same thing in every room, as if he was searching for something and Aidan realises with his stomach twisting, that he probably is.

In the kitchen, Aidan gets his by another wave of guilt. Richard had lectured him a million times about putting away things when he is done with them, but, as always, the jar of sugar and a spoon and Aidan’s cup from making coffee in the morning are still spread all over the counter. As is a good amount of sugar that didn’t quite make it into the cup. Now it is up to Richard to clean it up for the last time and it isn’t fair. 

“I’m so sorry, Richard,” Aidan whispers and reaches out to touch Richard’s cheek. His hand goes right through him, dissolving like smoke, but coming back together immediately. He can see goosebumps appearing on Richard’s skin and while that makes him regretful all over again, it also gives him reassurance that he isn’t entirely gone, yet. 

Without bothering to undress, Richard simply kicks off his shoes and falls into bed. He finds the T-Shirt Aidan wore to bed the night before and with another sound that is pure grief, he brings it up holding it to his face with a tight, white-knuckled grip.

In the dark, Aidan can hear Richard’s laboured breathing and it breaks his heart to know that he caused this much pain. It breaks his heart to know that he will never get to touch Richard again and kiss him and hold him, because he is dead. 

He sits on the windowsill with his head in his hands for a long time, feeling sorry for himself and even more for Richard until he can’t stand it anymore. He gets up and lies down near Richard on his former side of the bed. He doesn’t dare to touch Richard again, not wanting him to feel the cold. He simply lies there and listens, relieved when Richard finally manages to drift off into a restless sleep.

 

He dozed off into something sleep-like himself, and is pulled out of that state, startled, when the doorbell rings several times. He gasps, when he realises that he is floating over the bed, but only for a second, because once he realises what is going on with him, it’s over and he falls. He goes right through the bed, the floor and continues to fall until he manages to get a grip and comes to a soundless crash landing on the carpet in the flat three floors below.

“Aw, fuck,” he groans, even though the fall didn’t hurt at all. He just figures that it should have.

There is a shriek as Aidan gets up.

“I’m sorry!” he says instantly, then spins around excitedly. “Can you see me?” For a brief moment he dares to hope that he can be seen, before he notices that it is just the downstairs neighbours doing it. Right next to where he is standing and it is a lot more than he ever wanted to see of the elderly lady who kept inviting him and Richard over for tea and biscuits. When he was still alive.

“Sorry. Carry on,” he mumbles before fleeing from the scene. He hears it, but doesn’t pay attention to the lady’s dog growling at him as he leaves.

 

The ring at the door makes Richard wake up startled and jump out of bed almost instantly. It has to be Aidan. It has to be, because no one else would ring the doorbell that enthusiastically on a Sunday morning. Then he remembers.

He remembers and it explains the aching in his body, worse than the flu and gastroenteritis and a migraine and food poisoning combined and the feeling of complete emptiness and horror and loneliness. 

He shuffles to open the front door, anyway, if only to stop the ringing.

It is Aidan’s friend Adam at the door, looking fresh, put together and presentable as always, reminding Richard that he slept in the clothes he’s wearing. Adam is beaming brightly and waving a newspaper in the one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other.

“Long night, was it?” Adam asks after taking one good look at Richard. “Celebrating?”

“Celebrating?” Richard’s voice is rough and croaking.

“Our rising star!” Adam thrusts the newspaper at Richard who takes it automatically. It is folded so that the art section is on top. “Two Romeos in fair Verona” is the headline along with two pictures, side by side. One of the main actor gazing into Juliet’s eyes and one of Aidan, topless, with Juliet draped dramatically across his lap. “This bloke, uhm,” Adam reads the name below the headline, “Martin Freeman, he wrote. The. Best. Review. Aidan so owes him a drink! Where is he? Still in bed?”

Richard tears his eyes away from the newspaper to look at Adam again. He has absolutely no clue what has happened and it is going to be Richard’s job from now on to tell people. 

He would love to run away from that responsibility a little bit longer, simply send Adam away, still believing that Aidan is alive and well, but he knows that Adam was a good friend to Aidan and he deserves to know.

“You should come in,” he says gravely and notices the smile on Adam’s face falter and turn into a frown.

“Is everything… are _you_ okay?”

Richard shakes his head slowly.

“No,” he replies and takes Adam into the living room.

“What’s going on?” Adam pushes his glasses up his nose in a nervous gesture and looks up at Richard from his seat on the sofa. “Richard?”

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t have the right words. What do you say? He passed away? Left us? He is in a better place? All of these sound like lies. This is not what happened. He didn’t fall asleep peacefully after a long, full life. He was killed. Murdered. 

“I…” Richard begins, tempted to start by recalling how they got out of bed the previous day and what they had for breakfast, just to avoid breaking the news for a few seconds longer. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. Aidan, he died last night.”

There it is, the words are out and, judging from the look on Adam’s face, they have been heard. It doesn’t make Richard feel any better, though. Probably worse, because now that he is telling people, he can no longer pretend that it is all just a nightmare.

“But…” Adam points at the newspaper in Richard’s trembling hand.

“He was stabbed, after the play.”

“But,” Adam says again with tears welling up in his eyes, “he was good in it. The paper says that the audience really liked…” He purses his lips when it dawns on him that the play and the stabbing were not related. There is a short pause, a moment of silence and then Adam covers his face with his hands and starts crying, a desolate sobbing of a person entirely shattered. The kind of crying Richard wished he would be able to do, just to break out of the feeling of complete numbness.

He sits down next to Adam heavily and pulls him against his chest to offer a little bit of comfort. He wishes he could cry and grief like that, but he can’t. He needs to stay strong for everything that is about to happen. He has to make arrangements and cancel Aidan’s cards and the flight to Ireland for Christmas and… he takes a deep breath. He still has to call Aidan’s parents again. He didn’t want the hospital to do it, but when he tried several times during the night, there was no answer. He can imagine his mother’s mobile lying somewhere at the bottom of her purse and his father’s probably on the shelf where he keeps his keys and wallet with a dead battery. He has to find their landline somewhere in that shoebox, _shoebox_ , where Aidan keeps everything he deems important, from his insurance card to festival wristbands.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Adam manages to get out after a long time of sobbing, his voice choked. “I didn’t mean to… God, you must feel so awful, and now I make you take care of me.”

He moves away from Richard a little to fumble a tissue out of his pocket.

“Honestly, how, uh… how are you?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that question. He hasn’t even had time to process the full extent of what has happened. He was in shock when he went to bed yesterday and then there was Adam. There was simply no time to figure out how he feels, but somehow he is glad for that. Somehow he wants to draw out the moment when it finally hits him for as long as possible, to stay strong when the people who loved Aidan need him. He owes them that much, feeling that if he had made better decisions, if he hadn’t put his work first and been with Aidan and seen his play, he would still be alive.

“I will put the kettle on,” Richard replies instead of answering the question. 

“Let me make the tea,” Adam offers wiping fresh tears off his face with his sleeve after giving up on the entirely soaked tissue.

“No.” Richard shakes his head resolutely. He thinks about the sugar and the spoon on the kitchen counter and that Adam would surely move them and he can’t bear the thought. He wants to pretend just a little longer that Aidan could come back, delighted that everything is still where he left it when he makes himself a cup of coffee. “I have to make the tea.”


	5. The Sneeze Part Two

_… and while some aspects have been re-imagined and the play has been updated, it is a very respectful adaptation of one of Shakespeare’s most iconic works. The play’s biggest asset, however, has to be casting. Puerto Rico’s Alejandra Millán may not be the first actress to come to mind for the part or Juliet, but she delivers a stellar performance and Gary Woodruff as Romeo is earnest and vulnerable. I was honestly looking forward to the second act, so imagine my surprise, when director Russell Hansard announced that Woodruff has been taken ill and that Aidan Turner will take over the part of Romeo. There was an actual groan going through the audience as we all thought the same: ‘Come on, mate! We were enjoying ourselves here and now we have to put up with the crappy understudy?’_  
_We were wrong. Massive credit has to be given to Turner, a relatively unknown, Dublin-born actor. He must have been aware that no one came to see him, but he went out there bravely and after a few slight misses due to nerves, he got it. He was charismatic and passionate both in his love for Juliet and his inevitable suffering. He stood up, took over the play and, through his acting, told us all to go ‘f’ ourselves for doubting him. My –female – companion noted, it didn’t hurt that he took his shirt off, either. It tend to disagree, as he made all of us poor fellas in the audience who struggled to button their going out trousers look like red-cheeked, chubby little Putti.  
When speaking of the superb cast, we should not forget to mention- _

The paper is folded, hiding the rest of the article from Aidan’s eyes. He has read enough, though. Enough to make him want to go back on stage tonight and do it again and not be dead. He doesn’t want to be dead anymore. It’s depressing and lonely and he can’t stand to see Richard suffer without being able to do anything about it.

He watched Richard talk to his parents on again, off again for almost four hours and he is pretty sure that two of them were just sobbing on the other end of the line the entire time. Richard patiently explained again and again what happened, he was strong and supportive and Aidan has never felt more love for him than today, grateful at the way he handled the situation.

They speak about funeral arrangements and they agree that Aidan would have wanted to be buried in Ireland. It is true, he couldn’t imagine having his final resting place in England or anywhere else, but it breaks his heart once again to realise that Richard won’t be able to visit.

Richard agreed to read a poem at the funeral and after keeping busy all day with making calls he finally settles down in his armchair with an old, leather-bound book full of love letters and poems. Aidan loved that book so much. He loved it when Richard picked out something to read to Aidan and he loved how old and used it looks and he always loved the smell, that really good, dusty old book-smell that you just can’t get out of a paperback you pick up at the airport.

He sits on the floor by Richard’s feet and etches closer when Richard puts the book on his lap and opens it, just so he can smell it one more time. He inhales deeply, allowing himself to get lost in the memories the scent evokes, so that he doesn’t even realise it is coming. It is so unlikely and impossible that he doesn’t even have the chance to cover his mouth or turn his head away. A sneeze. A sneeze that sends dust in the air, as if it had happened in the physical world.

Richard sighs, a weary sound as if he was forced to do a repetitive, pointless task.

“Bless you, Aid…” He stops to look up sharply, then frowns and rubs his face, covering the disappointment in his eyes. 

Aidan is anything but disappointed. He jumps to his feet and waves his hands in front of Richard’s face.

“You heard that! You just heard that! Richard!” There is no reaction now and trying to get himself to sneeze again doesn’t work either. Still, Aidan is convinced that he just communicated with Richard and that he can find a way to do it again. He just has to figure out how.

He sits back down beside Richard’s feet again and rests his head against the chair, as close to his warm, living body as he can but careful not to touch. It is hard to believe how easy it is to take for granted the luxury of just reaching out and touching the person you love. There is nothing special about a quick hug, a teasing tickle, a mischievous slap on the rear or even just bumping elbows, until it gets taken away. Now that it is gone, Aidan would give anything to put his hand on Richard’s knee one more time and squeeze gently, like he used to do when they were sitting through a horrible play or in a waiting room or on the crowded tube. It was a reminder, of sorts. A reminder that they were in this together. Now he can’t, because they aren’t. Now it’s just Richard.

“I’m so sorry,” Aidan whispers for the hundredths time and looks up. Richard is taking his time, taking care to read every single word in every single poem. Occasionally, he looks up, rubs his eyes, sniffles and stares into the distance for a while. It doesn’t just break Aidan’s heart to see Richard like this, it shatters it into tiny pieces and leaves him feel crippled and truly, honestly dead. “I’m sorry I couldn’t go home with you last night.”

He never believed in ghosts, when he was still alive. He never believed in the paranormal or the supernatural and when everyone believed Agent Mulder’s claim that the truth was out there, Aidan remained firmly on Scully’s side. There was a logical explanation for everything. And now, here he is. 

With an irritated gesture he wipes a tear off his cheek. He can’t let go and he can’t move on, he doesn’t feel peaceful. He isn’t allowed to have an end. He has to watch the people he loves suffer and he doesn’t know what he did to deserve that. He knows that it won’t do any good to wallow in self-pity, but it’s not like there is much else left to do for him. He can’t even hunt down the guy who stabbed him and haunt him properly. What is he going to do? Sneeze at him?

Although getting revenge does have a nice ring to it. If only he could _do_ anything at all. It is frustrating and he wishes he had come back as a Poltergeist. At least that would have given him something to do.

His train of thought gets interrupted, when Richard closes the book decisively. He gets up from his chair, puts on his shoes and a coat and pauses, once he is dressed, to take another look around, undoubtedly waiting for Aidan to join him, as usual, before he catches himself doing it. His shoulders sag momentarily, but he squares them again, pockets his key and walks out of the flat, down the stairs and out of the building.

“Hold that door, Mate?” A short middle-aged man with neatly cut and parted blond hair hurries up the steps to catch the door. Absent minded, Richard stops the door from falling shut.

“Cheers.” The man gives Richard a friendly nod, then stops. “Do you happen to know if Aidan Turner lives here? I got this address from the people at the theatre.”

Both Richard’s and Aidan’s heads snap up simultaneously. 

“Do you know him by any chance?”

“Why do you ask?” Richard asks quietly.

“Ah, yes, I’m a journalist. I saw him in Romeo and Juliet last night. There is a review in the paper, you may have seen it. I write for a small online theatre blog on the side and I wanted to interview him. Is he home?”

Richard shakes his head slowly.

“That’s too bad.” The man pats his pockets and finds a business card in his tailored coat. “My name is Martin Freeman. Would you tell him I stopped by?”

“Just go, Richard, it’s okay,” Aidan whispers. He can tell that Richard is incredibly uncomfortable, but even in his state of grief, he is too polite to simply walk away. Freeman frowns and Richard shakes his head again.

“He… Aidan doesn’t life here anymore,” he replies finally, his voice thick with emotion.

“Oh, well, are you sure?” Freeman tilts his head to the side and points to the names on the letterboxes at the front door. R. Armitage/A. Turner. “Your name is… Richard, right? R for Richard? Moved out quite unexpectedly, did he?”

“Fucking leave him alone,” Aidan growls uselessly at the implication that Richard is lying, but somehow Freeman still backs off. 

“All right. No need to get upset,” he says and slides the business card into the letterbox. “I’ll just pop this in here and if he comes around to check his mail, he’ll know where to find me.”

This time, it is Aidan’s turn to frown. Richard doesn’t look the least bit angry. Just sad and tortured. Why would Freeman assume that he was upset? 

He watches the man walk down the steps again.

“Hey, did you just hear me?” Aidan yells after him and, shockingly, he actually stops and turns around.

“Excuse me? I didn’t catch that.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Richard replies, barely audible. Wherever he wanted to go seems to have become unimportant. He gets back into the house, leaving Aidan torn between following him to make sure he is okay and running after Freeman to figure out what the hell just happened.

 

The walk up to the river to clear his head is entirely forgotten once Richard is back upstairs. He is not ready. He can’t start telling people who don’t absolutely have a right to know. It is too painful. He stops in the hallway to look at the pictures once more. Aidan standing on a snowboard for the first time, smiling enthusiastically and the one after that, taken about fifteen minutes later, of Aidan sitting in the back of an ambulance with a fractured Fibula. Still smiling, like it was the best day ever. How different things were back then, when he could pick Aidan up from the hospital and take him to their hotel, instead of leaving him there, alone and dead.

He tears his eyes away from the photos and walks into the bedroom to set his alarm for work. The idea of sitting around alone in their flat – his flat – is daunting enough as it is, but having to call work to tell them that he isn’t coming in only makes it worse. Peggy, in the office is going to ask him if he isn’t well and then he would have to tell her and she would tell other and then his colleagues would start calling to offer their condolences. It’s too much.

He grabs two clean towels and takes them into the bathroom. He places both of them on the towel warmer, before he realises his mistake. He never noticed before, how much of his daily routine included Aidan before. How many of the little things he did for Aidan without even noticing, like automatically plugging in his electric razor to charge. He misses the things Aidan does for him as well. He always made sure that Richard’s favourite mug is washed. It is a silly gift, with pictures of all the Mr. Men characters on it and Richard loves it, because every morning Aidan would make Richard’s tea in that mug and point out of which one of the Mr. Men Richard reminded him that day. It was still sitting in the sink this morning. He remembers that he wanted to get one of them for Aidan, but couldn’t decide between “Little Miss Sunshine” and “Little Miss Chatterbox”, as they were both such accurate descriptions of Aidan.

He goes into the kitchen and stares into the fridge for a while. He is hungry, his stomach has been growling since noon, but he doesn’t want to eat. He doesn’t want life to go on.  
In the bedroom, he picks up Aidan’s T-Shirt again, but it doesn’t smell like him anymore. Mournful and defeated he climbs into bed and falls into a light and restless sleep.

 

Martin has never been a big fan of doctors. It seems a bit odd to complain to a stranger about anything that is wrong with his body and he never craved anyone’s attention in that way. After a long sleepless night, however, he feels that it is necessary to get an expert opinion, especially, after discussing his unique situation with his partner. She kept using words like stroke and aneurism and practically begged Martin to go and get checked out first thing in the morning.

For once, Martin didn’t protest much and is now sitting in the waiting room with his hands covering his ears, humming to himself. He is tired and irritated and really just wants a bit of peace and quiet.

He isn’t quite sure if he is more relieved or the other patients who have been throwing weird looks his way, when the nurse calls his name and leads him to the surgery. He sits down in a chair and waits again for the doctor to arrive.

“I’m not listening,” he mutters under his breath, his left eye twitching. “You might as well shut up. I’m not listening.”

“Mr Freeman.” The doctor strides in and shakes Martin’s hand. “We haven’t seen you in a long time. How are you doing?”

“Fine, really well,” Martin replies automatically, before realising that that is a bullshit reply. He wouldn’t be here, if he were fine.

“Good, I’m glad to hear that,” the doctor replies anyway and takes his seat at the other side of the desk. “So what can I do for you today?”

“Well, uhm…” It is one thing to say it to the woman he’s lived with for years, but to tell a total stranger that he is afraid of losing his mind is quite different. “The thing is, I… think I might be going crazy. I’m hearing voices. One voice, actually. For the last twelve hours I’ve been listening to the very chatty ghost of a gay, Irish actor.”

The doctor gives him a long, contemplating look.

“That is unusual.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Aidan says and Martin silently has to agree with him.

“I thought it was a prank at first, but it goes beyond that. It wouldn’t be possible for someone to pull off something like that. And I checked Aidan’s story, he did pass away on Saturday. Very tragic, I imagine, I just don’t understand why I would think I’m hearing his voice. I don’t understand what I have to do with that.”

“For feck’s sake, haven’t you been listening at all? You are the only one who can hear me!” 

“Aidan, is that the ghost?” Martin nods and the doctor continues carefully. “Does he tell you to hurt yourself? Or others?”

“No, not at all. He has been very friendly. There is just no off button. He won’t stop talking until I do what he wants. I haven’t had a wink of sleep all night.”

“And what does he want?”

“I don’t know,” Martin says after a small pause and he can hear Aidan groan. Of course he knows, but he won’t acknowledge Aidan’s request to go and see Richard again, because he isn’t real. Ghosts aren’t real. No matter how annoying he is, singing Disney songs, with partly made up, occasionally dirty lyrics and off key, at two in the morning, he is just a figment of his imagination. That is why he needs help. 

“Have you been under a lot of stress, lately?”

No, Martin thinks. Life has been surprisingly smooth sailing, lately. Work is fine, his relationship is great, his children are doing well, the mortgage has been paid for the month and he has pretty much all the Christmas presents bought and wrapped already. For once he has nothing to be stressed about.

“Yes,” he replies anyway, because stress is definitely a better explanation than dementia.

“I see,” the doctor replies and gives Martin a reassuring look. “Let’s run some tests and see if we can’t get rid of this… ghost.”

“Thank you.”

 

“That was a bit of a waste of time, don’t you think? You’re not crazy, I am real.”

Martin fights the urge to cover his ears again, but after wasting his time getting tests done only to be told that there is nothing wrong with him that the doctor can find and if the voice continues to haunt Martin, he should see a specialist, he has reached his breaking point. He can’t take it anymore. He stops walking and turns to the side from which he thinks Aidan’s voice is coming.

“Fine. Fine! If I go and see your boyfriend and talk to him, you will leave me alone?”

“I will stop talking right now,” Aidan promises and that alone sounds too good to be true.

“Good, fine. I’ll go, right now. Never mind that I had other plans for today,” Martin snaps, again, drawing curious looks from other pedestrians. He changes directions to get to the nearest tube station.

“Are you still there?” The sudden silence is almost unsettling.

“Hm,” Aidan replies, making Martin roll his eyes.

“You can say something.” He can hear a sigh of relief coming from his left. “Just nothing more about your childhood or your sexlife. And no more singing.” 

“It’s really boring and lonely, you know? When you can’t talk to anyone. So you really liked the play, yeah?”

This time Martin sighs. He shouldn’t have allowed Aidan to talk again.

“Yes,” he confirms. “Just don’t ask me anything in public. I look like I’m talking to myself.”

On the tube Aidan breaks the no singing rule again, but Martin lets it slide, because it is just soft mumming and mumbling under his breath and the song isn’t a Disney tune, it’s “Don’t fear the Reaper” and Martin is okay with that. He actually joins in a little bit.

 

At the flat, Martin rings the bell several times, but there is no answer.

“Wait here. Give me five minutes,” Aidan says and Martin can hear a bit of anxiety in his voice.

“Maybe he just went to the shops,” he reasons, trying to sound reassuring, but there is no response. He understands. He has seen Richard yesterday and he didn’t look well at all. Had he known back then what had happened, he would have been concerned and now he sincerely hopes that Richard didn’t do anything stupid. Mostly, because somehow he would get roped into it and he really doesn’t have the need to help out any more strangers today.

“His briefcase is gone,” Aidan’s voice reappears so unexpectedly, it makes Martin jump. “He went to work. That’s…”

“Strange?” 

“No, actually, he would do that.” Aidan still sounds a little baffled. “All right, then, let’s go to the University.”

“You did hear me when I said I had other plans, right?”

“Yeah, I did. Coming?”


	6. To Come Home

It wasn’t what Aidan expected, when he walked into the lecture theatre. There was supposed to be a room full of students. Aidan always loved to watch Richard teach and his plan was to sneak Martin in and watch the rest of the class with him, before asking Martin to speak to Richard. He feels good about this. He feels like this could be the unfinished business that keeps him around. He needs to tell Richard that he loves him and that everything is going to be okay, before he can move on.

His initial excitement, however, is completely forgotten when he realises that there is no room full of students. There is only Richard, sitting bent over his desk with his head in his hands. Aidan has only ever seen Richard cry with laughter, so it takes a moment to sink in that he is actually sobbing. Painfully. His shoulders shaking and his hair dishevelled, and Aidan had no idea Richard could cry like this, like a child, almost.

“Oh, Rich,” he whispers to himself before turning to Martin. “Come on!”

“You really want me to talk to him now?” Martin asks quietly, to avoid being overheard. 

“Yes, of course! It will make him feel better!”

“No, it won’t.” Martin’s voice is still low, but a lot more decisive now. “It will make him feel worse. First off all, he won’t believe me anyway, and if he does, he won’t feel better. To know that you are still around, stuck between life and death and he can’t see you, he can’t talk to you or be with you? That’s horrible.”

“I can make you talk to him,” Aidan replies, stubbornly, and seeing Martin shrug his shoulders pisses him off. Martin is the only thing over which he has some degree of control and now that is slipping away as well, because as much as he hates to admit it, Aidan can see Martin’s point.

“I will talk to him, I promise, once he’s had time to grief. If you think you need to annoy me further until I do, that’s your call, but I am not going in there right now. It won’t help.”

With a heavy sigh, Aidan nods his head. Martin is right. There won’t be any comfort in Martin’s words for Richard. Not now. He doesn’t need Aidan now. He doesn’t need a ghost. He needs someone real.

“Go,” Aidan tells Martin urgently. “Go and get Graham. Graham McTavish. He should be…” Aidan rubs his forehead, trying to remember. Richard doesn’t bring his thermos to work on Mondays because he and Graham are in the same building on Mondays and have coffee together. “He should be upstairs in one of the seminar rooms. Scottish Gaelic, you should be able to find it.”

“You want me to barge in there and drag him here?” Martin shakes his head with a frown, doubting his success.

“Just tell him it’s an emergency. Tell him Richard needs him. He’ll come. Just… go! Now!” Even though Aidan likes Graham, he always felt a bit insecure about the close friendship Richard kept with his ex. He always feared that one day Richard would realise that he had so much more in common with Graham and go back to him. Clearly, that isn’t a concern anymore, Aidan realises dismally.

Slowly he walks down the stairs and kneels in front of the desk, trying to get a look at Richard’s face, but it is buried deep in his arms. He yearns to tell him that everything is going to be fine and how sorry he is for everything that happened. For doing this to Richard, but he has said it so many times already he can’t do it again without the words being heard.

All he wants to do is put his head next to Richard’s and cry with him, but he can’t give up hope now. He isn’t gone yet, not entirely and as long as there it the slightest chance that he could return, he has to remain focussed and calm. So instead, he remains seated like that, listening to the slowly dying sounds of bereavement that are so unlike Richard, until he hears Martin return with Graham following. When he sees Richard slumped over his desk, Graham all but pushed Martin aside and reaches Richard’s side in a second. He kneels next to Richard, just like Aidan, the only difference being that he can actually do something to help. Although Aidan is relieved about that, is also floods him with incredible jealousy to see Graham pull Richard up from his desk.

“Richard?” Graham says, his voice both soft and commanding at the same time.

“Please, I can’t,” Richard mutters and struggles to get back into his previous protective position, but Graham holds his arms tightly.

“What’s going on, Rich?” 

Aidan walks around the pair to kneel next to Graham. He can see how tense Richard gets from being held and questioned and he hates to see him pull back and retreat into his shell.

He wipes his eyes and clears his throat.

“I sent all my students home early. I didn’t want anyone to see me. I am sorry you had to see that,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Never apologise,” Graham replies and thankfully lets go of Richard a little bit to give him room. “You know that emotions don’t scare me.”

Richard nods slowly and then takes a deep breath.

“It’s Aidan,” he whispers with urgency as if he had to say it now or never. “He… he’s gone.”

“Did he leave you? After everything you did for him? That little bastard!”

“Hey!” Aidan protests uselessly.

“I always knew it, I always knew he would…”

“No,” Richard interrupts before Graham can continue to do Aidan down. “He was killed.”

Aidan turns away. He thinks that everyone must have had the idea to fake their own death to see who shows up to the funeral, who would cry and who would have something nice to say. Everyone has thought about that at least once. He did. Just for fun. Now that the part where he has to use his imagination has been eliminated, it’s not fun anymore. He doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want to see how his friends react. He can’t bear it.

Without looking back he leaves the lecture theatre and looks around. Martin has gone and Aidan can’t blame him. He would have bolted the first chance he got as well, had he been in Martin’s shoes. Even though it would have been good to have someone to talk to, Aidan doesn’t need Martin’s help today and probably not for a while and once he does need him again, he knows where to find him.

He exits the building and blinks into the pale winter sun. Judging from the thick coats, scarves, gloves and hats of the people walking by he concludes that it must be a freezing day, but he doesn’t feel the cold. He is entirely removed from life.

With his head bowed in defeat, he starts walking aimlessly and allows his mind to wander. Is he the only ghost or are there others just like him and if there are, could he see them without realising what they are? Maybe the campus is full of ghosts, but Aidan simply doesn’t recognise them and vice versa. 

“Can anyone hear me,” he asks quietly at first, then once again, louder, but no heads turn towards him. He wonders if Martin is the only one who can hear him and if so, why him? Aidan has no connection whatsoever to that man and it seems odd. It seems like someone who has had a stronger connection to him in real life should be able to hear him. There was that one moment, where Richard kind of felt his presence when he sneezed and admittedly, he hasn’t explored that option fully. He hasn’t checked with the people who have a connection with him. A bond that is even stronger than the love between him and Richard, because it has been there from the day he was born. Even before that. 

His jaw drops at the understanding that he _is_ the creation of love. Even when he got into trouble and misbehaved and was a moody, annoying teenager, his parents never made him feel like he wasn’t loved. If anyone is able to hear him and feel his presence, it should be his parents. This should work, it _has_ to work! 

Knowing that Graham will take care of Richard, Aidan feels that it is safe to leave him alone for a bit and without overthinking it, he races to the nearest tube station on his way to Gatwick Airport.

 

A flight, a ride on the 777 bus and a walk later, he is home. Standing in front of the door, he hesitates. Maybe this isn’t right. Maybe he shouldn’t. Just like Richard, they may not need him right now. Stubbornly he dismisses the thoughts, because this isn’t just about what they need. 

Determined he steps through the front door. He doesn’t visit often enough, but the house is still as familiar to him as if he still lived there. He has snuck in way after his curfew enough times to know his way around in complete darkness. He knows every sharp corner, every squeaking floorboard. Not that it matters anymore, but it is still good to see that some things never change. 

The house is quiet, much quieter than he remembers it from coming home, because today there is no one fussing over him. No one telling him that he looks skinny and needs a few days of good home cooked meals. No one telling him that his hair is getting too long and his jeans are ripped. No one telling him that they missed him and it is good to see him. 

He finds his mother in the living room and the emotion of seeing her momentarily stuns him. She is sitting alone surrounded by photo albums filled with baby pictures and photos of Aidan growing up. It looks like she aged by more than twenty years since the last time he video chatted with her about a week ago. 

“Mam!” The excited smile on his face falters when she shows no reaction to his voice at all. “Mam? It’s me. Come on! I know you can hear me.” He pauses to give her a moment to look up and smile and tell him that she was just pretending – of course she can hear him! There is nothing. “You have to hear me! You’re my Mam, you have to! You have to know that I’m here. Mammy…” He is 32 years old, but he feels like he is a child. Like he is three and desperately needs his mother to give him a hug and a cuddle and tell him that everything is going to be fine.

“Mam,” he tries again, angrier this time, because it’s not fair that he is dead and even though she is sitting right there, she can’t even speak to him. It’s not fair! He can’t have his boyfriend anymore or his mother or anything. He can’t feel the sun on his skin or smell freshly brewed coffee. He can’t be touched and kissed and hugged anymore. His life is over and it is not fair. He doesn’t deserve that.

He walks through his father’s armchair to kneel in front of his mother. His anger has vanished just as quickly as it came when he sees the pain on her face and the tears in her eyes up close and it hurts like another knife to the chest to have her look right through him with those sad eyes. He wants to die, he wants to be truly dead, because being stuck in-between is torture.

He crawls onto the sofa to sit next to his mother for a while and watch her look at photos. Then he lies down and stays on the couch, only moving parts of his body when someone is about to sit down on him. He lies there and talks to himself and it is a bit like a therapy. He lies on the couch and says all the things he always wanted to say to his mother and father, his brother, but never said, because he always figured he’d have time for that. He lies there and watches how bouquets of flowers arrive daily. White roses, lilies and carnations, some with silver ribbons, some with black ones and all of them very sombre and depressing, in spite of their beauty.

He plans to continue to lie there until Richard gets there and the funeral is over so that he can return home with him. He likes the plan, because it requires no effort from him and he can focus soley on feeling miserable and sorry for himself.

 

“He would have hated it.” It is the first actual thing that comes out of Richard’s mouth since the funeral and it makes his friends on the left and right side of him look up sharply. He was monosyllabic at the funeral and even though he tried to be warm and cordial with Aidan’s family, he thinks he failed massively there. He adores Aidan’s parents and his brother, but in the light of what had happened, he found it hard to find the right words, so he kept quiet and to himself.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Adam puts his hand on Richard’s knee reassuringly, but there is no real belief behind those words. “It was a beautiful service.”

All things considered, Adam is probably right, but Richard still feels like Aidan would not have been pleased with his own funeral. 

“It looks like I didn’t care,” Richard replies. His friends protest, of course, telling him that everyone who would think that he didn’t care must be blind and deaf and stupid.

He stares past Graham, out of the plane’s little window. He doesn’t remember who said it, but someone compared the memory of Aidan to a softly blowing wind, pleasant and always present and Richard wonders if only he sees the irony in the fact that their plane is tossed around in the sky by the biggest storm this winter, yet.

As Adam said, it was a beautiful service, but it lacked personality. He doesn’t blame anyone but himself for it. Aidan’s parents invited him multiple times to bring his own ideas into the planning of the service, but he couldn’t. A part of him refused to deal with the fact that there needed to be a ceremony at all. Part of him stupidly thought that if there was no funeral, Aidan wasn’t gone. He didn’t realise that Aidan’s family must have felt the same way, so most decisions were left with the funeral director. She tried hard to update the ceremony and make it young and modern, but it felt like she didn’t know Aidan and was trying so hard that she failed to capture the effortless of him. He would have shown up in his eternal half-washed look, like he couldn’t be bothered and let his personality shine, not the other way round, like this service.

“They played Adele,” he adds and he knows that Aidan would have been terribly annoyed that they played “Someone like you” as his final goodbye instead of something a little less expected. A little more _Aidan_. He could kick himself for not speaking up when he had the chance, because he knew what Aidan would have wanted. Ed Sheeran, maybe. “Photograph” seems fitting. Or Flogging Molly, a band he listened to often when he felt a little homesick or was particularly proud of being Irish. “’What’s Left of the Flag’, he would have liked that one.”

“Maybe Adele wasn’t the best choice,” Graham agrees and continues, choosing his words very carefully, “but there is a fine line between what he would have liked and what is appropriate.”

Richard absolutely disagrees with that, but he doesn’t say anything. He fears to lose his hard-won composure if he talks any more about what Aidan would have wanted and that he doesn’t give a shit what’s appropriate. Not this time.

“I really hate flying when the weather’s like that.” It is an obvious attempt to break the growing tension and Richard is thankful for that. He knows that everyone is concerned for his well-being, but a part of him wants to lash out and start a stupid fight for no reason other than being angry. Yes, he is devastated and heartbroken, but he is also incredibly angry and things are just piling up.

It’s not just the funeral itself that felt wrong, it is also the fact that lot of Aidan’s friends couldn’t be there, even though he would have wanted them. Of course Adam went and Graham, even though it was probably more for Richard’s sake. A few others managed to get time off work and fly to Dublin, but a lot of Aidan’s good friends were unable to attend. 

“The part where they spoke Irish, that was nice,” Adam tries again. “Did you understand any of that, Graham, or is Scottish Gaelic totally different?”

Richard doesn’t pay attention to them anymore. He is biting his bottom lip thoughtfully as he continues to stare out of the window.

“We should do it properly,” he says, interrupting Graham mid-sentence. 

“Do what properly?”

“The funeral. We should have a… late wake. Or a Month’s Mind, whatever you want to call it.” He is speaking slowly, while the plan forms in his head. “I want to invite his friends so they can have a chance to say goodbye. He deserves that.” Aidan was always happy to have friends over, he was always the first to offer a couch to sleep on to a friend in need. He simply liked having someone around and Richard thinks he would have loved a party in his honour.

While Adam is already all over the idea and making plans Richard leans back in his chair. It must be the air-conditioning acting up, when cold air brushes his cheek, but for a second it feels like a kiss.


	7. Loneliest Number

Christmas is hard. Aidan spends a bit of time at his parent’s house, but there is no joy there this year. The Christmas tree is set up, but the lights and ornaments are still in their boxes. No one felt like decorating this year. The house is silent, but not in the good “Twas the night before Christmas”-way. It is the poisonous quiet that spreads over a place when something so tragic happened that there are no words.

The most time is spent, however, at home, sitting with Richard who simply can’t seem to get out of bed. He barely eats, hardly ever answers the phone and just lies there, waiting for the holidays to be over. Richard’s parents had made plans to spend the holidays in France and Richard asked them not to cancel. He told them it would only make him feel worse to know that he ruined their Christmas as well. They protested, of course, but Richard practically begged for them to go.

Aidan thinks it was a terrible idea to let his parents go, he felt better knowing that they weren’t too far away, should anything happen. He doesn’t know what exactly he thinks _might_ happen, but he has a bad feeling when he sees Richard in this state. He fears that Richard might fall asleep and never wake up again, because he is just too depressed to go on. There is a little selfish voice the back of Aidan’s head that keeps wondering if Richard’s death is the worst thing that could happen, but he is determined to pay no attention to it. Keeping Richard alive is the goal, because it’s the right thing and there is no guarantee that they are reunited if he died, anyway.

“Can I bring some stuff for the party over in an hour or so?” Adam’s message pops up on Richard’s phone brightly in the dimly lit room.

Richard groans and buries his face in his pillow, but then takes the mobile, knowing that Adam will just show up if he doesn’t reply.

“Not today,” he types.

“No! No, no, no,” Aidan protests. “Type yes!”

Richard stares at the message for a long while before he deletes the words and types “ok” instead.

“Yes!” Aidan says triumphantly. Richard would definitely benefit from having a living person around and Adam’s enthusiasm for the party, which is set between Christmas and New Year’s might give Richard life. Aidan is a little annoyed by how much Adam is looking forward to it, but he probably shouldn’t take it personally. 

Richard rolls out of bed with another groan and Aidan watches him pull his jumper over his head with his bottom lip caught between his teeth. The loss he experienced is visible on Richard’s body. He is skinnier than Aidan has ever seen him and he walks with his shoulders slumped, but he is still the man he loves and he is still sexy to him. 

Aidan doesn’t sleep anymore, but he drifts off in a doze and often has the most vivid dreams of Richard laying him down on the bed and making wonderful, sweet, slow love to him or bending him over the nearest available surface and having his way with Aidan so hard he can almost still feel him inside when he wakes up.

He would give anything to feel Richard’s chest under his hands once more. To tease his nipples with his teeth, dip his tongue into his bellybutton and stroke the little hair on his stomach that Richard is so insecure about but Aidan finds incredibly hot. 

He knows that it is wildly inappropriate and he doesn’t want to feel this way. He wants to be sad and worried and angry and lonely, but it’s been three weeks since his death and on top of all those emotions, he is also Aidan the horny ghost.

When Richard walks into the bathroom and closes the door, Aidan stays behind. He promised himself in the beginning that he would give Richard privacy in there and there is no point watching him undress further anyway, as it would do nothing but torture Aidan. He can scratch, punch and pinch himself. He can fall from the roof of the building and land on concrete and not feel a thing, but sadly the same goes for good feelings. His body doesn’t feel anything, good or bad. He will never taste ice cream again or bacon, he will never be able to let sand run through his hands or bury them in a fluffy puppy’s fur or have a baby hold his finger with their weirdly strong little grip. He knows that he will never again have the satisfaction of popping bubble wrap or touching anything with a “do not touch” sign on it or waking up refreshed from a nap and he has made peace with that. The only thing he truly wants to feel is Richard’s stubble against his cheek and even though he has learned a few tricks since he died, nothing compares to that feeling.

He figured out how to float like he did the first day and learned that he can walk and fall through almost anything but solid ground. It is a relief to know that he won’t fall all the way through the earth and end up swimming in the South Pacific Ocean. He also learned how to teleport from one place to another, but his accuracy isn’t great, yet. When he wanted to return to The Bull’s pub he ended up in a field somewhere in Cornwall with an actual, massive bull grazing next to him.

He still goes back to the area around the pub regularly when Richard is asleep, hoping to see his attacker again. He needs to do it, even though he doesn’t know what good it would do to see the kid again. It’s not like he could do anything and he is so over not being able to do anything and especially not being heard. He has been excited about the party ever since Richard had the idea, but he has started wondering where the point of looking forward to it is, when his friends are going to be there, but he can’t talk to any of them.

The shower is still on, so Aidan figures he has a few minutes to spare. He closes his eyes and focusses on where he wants to go. He ends up a few houses down the road, but it’s close enough. At least he got the postcode right this time.

 

“Hi! Miss me?”

Martin actually jumps, when the voice interrupt him in his thoughts.

“Fuck!” he curses, clutching his chest. “You can’t do that!”

“Sorry,” Aidan replies, but he sounds entirely too gleeful.

“No, really, you nearly gave me a fucking heart attack,” Martin shouts, angry at the fact that Aidan doesn’t seem sorry at all, angry that he managed to catch him off guard, but mostly angry at himself for letting himself think that maybe he imagined it all. That maybe he hadn’t heard any voices after all and that he just suffered from some type of weird sleepwalking episode when he ended up at the University a couple of weeks ago. He even researched and found outrageous stories of the things people did while sleepwalking, ranging from painting masterpieces to killing the in-laws. Overall, he thinks he could have been a lot worse off and left it at that. Not fully convinced, because it felt so real on the day, but the explanation was good enough for him. And now all that hard work convincing himself is shattered. He’s back.

“I’m sorry,” Aidan repeats, a little more serious this time. “Let me make it up to you. Richard is having a party tomorrow and you should come.” 

“A party? He must be really glad to be rid of you,” Martin snaps, before he realises that it was a really shitty thing to say, even if he is irritated. “Come on, you _are_ kind of annoying, you must know that.” It’s not so much an apology, but a joke to lighten the mood is the best Martin can do at the moment. He notices the mug on his desk tremble a little, just enough to spill a few drops of tea.

“Oh my God, did you just see that? I did that!” 

“Yeah, I… I saw it.” 

“I actually wanted to throw the tea in your face for being a dick, so this is kind of anti-climactic, but… wow! I touched something. I really did!”

Martin reaches for a tissue to mop up the spill and sets the mug down firmly onto the desk. 

“Do it again.”

Nothing happens except for Aidan making frustrated noises for a full minute.

“I can’t.” 

Aidan sounds so defeated, it actually makes Martin feel bad for him. He picks up the mug and takes a sip.

“You made it go cold,” he comments with a grimace. “Bear in mind that I’m really trying to help when I say this. I could try to get you upset again, see if that works.”

There is another moment of silence while Aidan thinks about that, but then he sighs.

“Sure, why not?”

While Martin has no problems insulting someone who deserves it, it is difficult to do it to someone who doesn’t and who clearly has the short end of the stick. The kid is dead, it is kind of mean to rubit in his face. Martin still gives it a go, but his insults are half-hearted at best. He even tries to throw in some gay and Irish stereotypes but instead of offending him it makes Aidan laugh out loud.

“Maybe if I caught you off-guard,” Martin suggests.

“That makes sense. I didn’t even think about it, when I reached for the mug, I just reacted.” There is a small pause. “On the first day I sneezed and Richard definitely noticed something.”

“There you go. Watch a movie with a surprise ending.” It is a weak suggestion, and Martin knows that. He just doesn’t want to be a ghost babysitter for the rest of his life. As far as ghosts go, Aidan seems to be a better fate than Slimer or the twin girls from The Shining but that doesn’t mean that he can ever accept any of this as normal. He wants to be done with it.

“You being nice to me, that would be a big surprise,” Aidan replies. “So what about the party? Are you coming?”

“Would you leave me alone if I didn’t come?”

“Sure. I wouldn’t bother you a second on the day of the party, because I will be too busy _not_ talking to all my friends, but from the day after until the day you die, I swear, I will haunt your ass.”

It doesn’t sound like Aidan is joking and Martin figures that it is never a good idea to piss off a ghost, no matter how sweet the person might have been in life, so he sighs deeply. He is going to have to convince Amanda to let him go. He can already hear how that conversation would go.

“Dear, I have to go to this party where I am technically not invited and don’t know anyone. Why? A ghost makes me do it.” He can’t see that ending well, so he is going to have to make up some surprise-last minute work event to cover up and he really hates lying to his better half. She has a way of finding out.

“Looking forward to it, then,” he says, unable to leave the sarcasm out of his voice entirely.

 

Richard closes the bathroom door and leans his back against it to have a moment to himself. The people, the party, everything is a bit overwhelming, even though it isn’t a lout, wild part and everyone is incredibly respectful and supportive. It is almost unbelievable how many people came to say goodbye. _Almost_ unbelievable, because the more Richard thinks about it, the more it makes sense. It was so easy for Aidan to make friends and everyone just adored him, apparently. They are so eager to talk about him as well and even though having a house full of people isn’t exactly Richard’s idea of fun that isn’t his problem. It’s the things that people say and the memories they share of Aidan that he doesn’t know how to handle. They make the void he left behind more and more unbearable and he doesn’t know how to deal with that pain with all those people around him. So he hides.

There is a draft near the door he never noticed before. The cool air that almost feels like Aidan’s gentle hands caressing his face like he used to and even though he doesn’t know where it’s coming from, it helps him to calm down. When his legs feel stronger, his hands don’t shake anymore and the lump in his throat is gone, he walks to the sink to splash some water on his face.

“This is good,” he tells himself and he doesn’t just say that. This is exactly what Aidan would have wanted and loved and the stories people share make him want to smile, genuinely, but they also break his heart at the same time.

A soft knock on the door pulls Richard out of his thoughts. People need to use the bathroom, of course. It was never a brilliant place to hide.

“Just a minute, please,” he yells and dries his face.

“You’re here?” He is surprised to see Martin. As far as he knows Martin only tried to get in touch with Aidan after he died. They weren’t friends before, they didn’t even know each other. Then again, it is a small world and maybe he just tagged along with someone else.

“You were in there a while,” Martin replies without acknowledging the question. “Are you okay?” He sounds kind of awkward, as if he doesn’t really want to ask but feels compelled to do it. 

“Yes, fine.” Richard wants to add that he hadn’t been aware that his time in the bathroom would be measured, but before he can Martin seems to be distracted.

“Are you happy now? I asked!” Martin says to himself and Richard uses the opportunity to escape. There is just something off about that man and he can’t quite put his finger on it.

He returns to the living room where video clips of Aidan are playing on the telly. One of his friends asked Richard for videos and put in the time to make a compilation of Aidan performing on stage, clips of his roles on TV and home videos. 

“Turn is up, this one is really good,” one woman says and someone else unmutes the telly. Aidan’s voice comes from the speakers and it is almost like having him there in the room.

“Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death.” Aidan pauses before he breaks character and smiles. “This is stupid.”

“No, it’s good!” Adam protests off camera. “Just do it like you practised.” 

Aidan gives Adam a long-suffering look, but then he focuses. His eyes radiate strength and determination as he stares into the lens. Even his voice drops a little lower and he speaks with a northern accent that is a lot closer to Richard’s than to Aidan’s own.

“Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death,” he starts again and as he continues to say his lines the camera slowly moves away from his face his whole costume becomes visible. It is a black cloak with a shaggy fur collar. Leather armour underneath with straps crossing over his chest and a sheath attached to his belt, holding a sword. “I pledge my life and honour to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.”

“Perfect!” Adam comments. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Aidan replies and after taking one more deep breath he walks past Adam. It only becomes clear that the piece was filmed in a public bathroom when the camera turns to follow Aidan. 

Richard almost manages a smile as he watches Aidan stride into the lecture theatre like he owned the place. It was his fortieth birthday and Aidan had planned a literature-themed surprise party for him. To start things off, Aidan picked Richard up from work, dressed as Jon Snow from “A Song of Ice and Fire”. Even though Richard never cared much for the books they watched the series together and he had to admit, Aidan really looked the part – just more attractive. And he was incredibly moved by Aidan’s bravery to go out in public in a costume like that for him and he had to applaud him for staying in character the entire time. He did it so well, a few students even asked for selfies with him. Pretty much everyone agreed that Richard had the coolest boyfriend ever and surprisingly attendance was a lot higher for a few weeks after that.

“He could really dance, you know, for a white, Irish boy,” someone says, pulling Richard out of his thoughts once again. While he had been staring into space, the clip had changed to a video of a friend’s wedding. The bride had taken Aidan onto the dancefloor and – considering that there was an open bar and the bride was barefooted – they didn’t look half-bad. It certainly made Richard feel inadequate for his snap-tap move for the rest of the night. “Didn’t he actually do dance as a kid?”

“We don’t talk about that,” Martin, who has come out of nowhere, blurts out and then awkwardly adds, “I would think.”

Richard focusses on Martin, his eyes narrowed dangerously. He isn’t wrong, Aidan doesn’t like to talk about his past in ballroom dancing and that Martin would know anything about that is very suspicious.

“You seem to know a lot about him.”

“More than I ever wanted to know,” Martin agrees.

“It makes me wonder how. If you never met, how do you know these things?” Richard is tired and emotional and he has had a few glasses of wine. That is the only explanation he can come up with for the words that come out next. “You wanted to see him when you came to our flat, but you didn’t expect to find me, so you gave me that far-fetched story about the article you were going to write. You were having an affair, weren’t you?”

He wonders what Aidan saw in the guy. He looks like a boring, aging dentist and there were few things Aidan hated more than going to the dentist.

“If you could hear him right now… He is laughing his arse off.” Martin replies calmly and points at the empty space next to him. “And we didn’t have an affair! What’s the matter with you?”

He immediately holds up his hand to stop Richard from replying and seems to be listening to the voice in his own head, because no one else dares to make a sound. The room is so quiet it could compete with the anechoic chamber at Orfield Labs.

“I can’t tell you yet,” he finally says. “I will, I just need a little more time.”

“I don’t even care anymore.” Richard shakes his head in disgust. The man is obviously crazy and if his goal was to cause more pain then he succeeded. This party was supposed to make Richard feel better and so far it only did the opposite. 

“Come on, let’s get some air.” Graham’s tone doesn’t leave room for protest, so Richard lets himself be dragged away from the scene. Once outside with the cool air clearing his head the entire weight of the pain he tried to bottle up and hide away hits him. He tried so hard to be positive and optimistic but none of that matters, because it won’t bring his Aidan back.

“I wish he was here,” he whispers before the aching in his heart overwhelms him and it is all he can do to cling to Graham.

 

“I am, Richard. I am,” Aidan says softly. Maybe it had been his plan all along when he invited Martin to come to the party or maybe it occurred to him just a few minutes ago, but he is going to tell Richard tonight. Just the right moment is all he is waiting for now.


	8. Till Death do us Party

The music has gone from weepy to party and Aidan is happy to see that people have are having a good time and stopped sighing heavily whenever his name is mentioned. Even Richard has relaxed a bit. He isn’t exactly partying hard, but he is sitting down calmly and accepts every refill of his wineglass with a little nod of acknowledgement. 

The way he just sits there, sipping his wine with a faraway expression on his face is devastating and Aidan wishes he could sit down next to him and wipe that forlorn look away with a kiss and a suggestive hand on Richard’s thigh.

“Would anyone just… talk to the man?” Aidan asks out loud, even though he knows it is pointless. He briefly considers getting Martin or at least asking Martin to ask someone to sit with Richard, when his wish gets fulfilled.

It is Aidan’s friend and colleague Ryan who notices that Richard might be in need of some company and plops down on the couch next to him. No kiss and no hand on his thigh, but with a friendly smile.

“So…” Ryan begins and even though he is usually a chatty guy, he struggles to come up with anything else to say. It makes Aidan even more thankful that he approached Richard anyway, in spite of not knowing him at all. He never introduced the two of them and with good reason. While Ryan and him were friends outside the work environment they had a bit of a rivalry going on when it came to auditions and castings as they had similar looks and often tried out for the same roles. Ryan had an infectious smile, was charming and - even playing a serial killer – incredibly likeable and Aidan really didn’t want Ryan to audition for the role of Richard’s new boyfriend. Even though he claimed to be straight, Aidan never wanted to take that risk. He could only imagine how many people would go gay for someone like Richard.

“You don’t have to do this,” Richard says, looking at him over the top of his glass. “Go! Enjoy the party.” He has said the same thing to Aidan so many times before, it stings to hear him say it to someone else now.

“Nah, I want to talk to you.” Ryan taps his fingers against his bottle in a random rhythm and shrugs. “Because, well, I just want to.”

“I may not have all that much to say,” Richard replies wryly with his eyes still fixed on Ryan, daring him to say something like “my goldfish died, so I know exactly what you’re going through” just so he has a reason to get rid of him.

When Ryan just nods and doesn’t say anything dumb, Richard finishes off his – fifth – glass of wine as if there were answers at the bottom of the glass. He tilts and turns the glass in his hands slowly, watching the remaining drops of liquid roll and swirl and collect in a little blood-red pool. 

“This wine,” he says slowly, almost as if he was talking to himself. “We discovered it on Waiheke. He fell in love with it instantly, I hated it… Naturally, we bought a case.” 

Aidan smiles just a little at that. It was one of the easiest things for him to get Richard to do exactly what he wanted and he almost feels bad for exploiting that on more than one occasion. Then again, they bought a case of the wine Richard liked as well, so it wasn’t really as bad as it sounds.

“It grew on me and I like it now, but this was the last bottle. It’s all gone.” He sets the glass down on the table and stares at it, as if finishing the case of wine was the real tragedy here.

“Waiheke,” Ryan says to keep the conversation going. “That’s New Zealand, right? When did you go?”

“Three years ago. I gave him the flight for Christmas, and…” Affectionally, Richard shakes his head as if he still can’t believe it. “He was furious. You know what he said to me? He said,” he switches his voice to a more winey tone, “why are you doing this to me, Richard? New Year’s is for going out and partying, not sitting in a tent at the other end of the world surrounded by sheep. I had plans! And I’m already from Ireland, I don’t need to fly for days to see a beautiful island!”

Embarrassed by his own ignorance, Aidan buries his face in his hands. His excuse is, that things between him and Richard just started to progress from a casual relationship to a serious relationship and he expected that to fall apart any minute. That is why he took it so incredibly slow with Richard. His previous relationships always fell apart when things started to become serious. He is sure that it was his fault most of the time and he was afraid that the same thing would happen here. 

And he really _did_ have plans for New Year’s eve.

“After more than thirty hours of pouting on the plane we ended up having a good time after all. We actually planned to go back this year. I wanted to… I don’t even know why I am telling you this.” Richard looks at Ryan again, who gives him an encouraging nod that make Richard sigh and roll his eyes. “I wanted to propose to him on that trip.”

His jaw actually drops at that and Aidan kneels down in front of Richard to look him in the eyes.

“Really?” Of course he doesn’t get a response, but the thought that Richard loved him that much makes him feel warm and almost alive.

“I know it was a stupid idea and he would have been crazy to accept and settle for someone like me, but sometimes I could picture us growing old together. A little house in the country. A dog. He would have hated it, he would have been all ‘I need the city, I need people around me!’, but sometimes I liked to think that it could have worked.”

“It would have worked,” Aidan says, his voice thick with emotion. “I would have made it work and saying yes would have been the smartest thing I ever did.” He scrambles back to his feet. He needs to talk to Richard. Right now. 

“Martin?” He wastes no time and heads to the study. Martin has had the common sense to stay there and avoid Richard, but now the room is empty. He checks the kitchen and pokes his head through the bathroom door. 

“Really? In the bathroom?” He makes a face at the sight. It’s not Martin, but Adam and Graham engaged in a wild make-out session. He had noticed that the two of them got along splendidly, but this seems a bit too much, too soon and too ‘wrong party’. “This better be some kind of grief-management thing,” he mutters and pulls his head back. He turns around frustrated when he notices Martin by the front door, wrapping up in his coat, scarf and gloves.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, making Martin jump once again.

“Home,” he replies shortly and pulls his knitted hat over his ears.

“You can’t go yet! I…” Aidan protests, but Martin cuts him off.

“Watch me. It’s three in the morning, my family is waiting for me and I am tired.”

“But I need you. I want to do it. I want to tell him. I’m ready. He’s ready and I want to do it as long as there are others around.” He thinks it would be best to reveal his presence when Richard has people to support him. He might think he is losing his mind when there is no one else around to confirm that what he is hearing is true.

Martin gives a long suffering look in Aidan’s direction and then starts to slowly peel of his winter wear again.

“Are you sure? Do you know what you are going to say?”

“Uh…” Aidan has about a million different versions of the scenario in his head and if he is being honest, he has no idea how the conversation is going to go. 

“Are you nodding your head?”

“Yeah,” Aidan nods his head this time. “I’m sure.” He knows at least that much. “It’s going to be fine.”

“Of course it is,” Martin replies with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “What could possibly go wrong?”

“Exactly!” Aidan decides to ignore the cynicism. Martin doesn’t know how much Richard loved him. He doesn’t know that Richard is just going to know - to feel - that Aidan is there, once it has been pointed out to him. He is sure that once Richard has opened up to the idea that Aidan is a ghost he is going to hear him just as well as Martin. “But before we go in, could you do me one more favour? Could you just bang against the bathroom door a little? That’d be great.”

 

Martin squeezes past a group of people just saying their goodbyes and leaving the living room empty except for Richard and Ryan. 

“You are still here,” Richard says in an accusatory tone. “We thought you’d left.”

“Believe me, I would have left a while ago. I can actually tell when I’m not welcome.” He gives Richard a pointed look and even though he is entirely on Richard’s side, of course, Aidan can’t blame him for being a little annoyed by the way he has been treated. “The thing is, I was invited.”

“Do you want me to escort him to the door?” Graham and Adam have snuck in, looking a little dishevelled and a lot caught in the act.

“I don’t even care anymore. Let him talk,” Richard picks up his recently filled glass again and leans back. “So, little dentist, say what you have to say.”

“I’m not a dent…”

“Just go with it,” Aidan interrupts. Richard is in that particularly state of drunkenness where he loves everyone and Aidan thinks they can use that to their advantage.

“The thing is… I can’t believe what I am about to say.” Martin shakes his head in disbelief. “Aidan invited me. He isn’t entirely gone. I honestly don’t believe in ghosts, but he, he _is_ a ghost.”

The room is dead quiet, but the silence is interrupted after a few moments by the sound of Richard trying unsuccessfully to hold back laughter. It bubbles up and out of his mouth.

“Who you gonna call?” he gasps and has to wipe tears off his face.

“I am serious,” Martin says, once Richard has stopped laughing and looks at him with an amused expression. “I can’t see him, but I can hear him. I can talk to him.”

“Oh yeah?” Richard gets up from his seat, brushing away Ryan’s hand when he is trying to hold him back. His mood has suddenly swung all the way to the other end of the spectrum and this time he fixes Martin with an icy stare. “Aidan is a ghost? What are you going to tell me next? That for a few hundred quit you’ll let me talk to him? How dare you? How dare you come into my home and try to con me? ”

Richard steps around the coffee table slowly, threateningly.

“Well if you’re offering to pay,” Martin responds with a shrug, firmly standing his ground. “But you could actually talk to him for free. Ask me anything only he would know.”

“I don’t want to ask you anything. I want you out of my house.”

“The first time he said ‘I love you’ was when he was sick and you took care of him without any concern for catching whatever he had yourself,” Martin calmly repeats the words Aidan feeds him. “But that wasn’t the time he realised he was in love with you.”

“It was a few weeks before that,” Aidan continues. He speaks slowly to give Martin a chance to repeat everything. “Remember, when I had that huge audition for Dogpark and it was pretty much the worst day ever? I was still on Facebook back then and I was so annoyed that, to get some pity, I posted something like “It’s pissing all over the bastard place. No coat. No oyster card. No money for a cab. Never gonna get to my fucking audition now!” and you replied “don’t move” and, just, maybe, five minutes later you showed up in a cab and took me to the audition and bought me a cheesburger. It was your day off, too and you totally cancelled all of your plans for me… And that’s when I knew.” 

Aidan can tell from the way Richard’s face softens that he remembers that day. He didn’t know it at the time, but Aidan later revealed that he fell in love then.

“That’s a true story,” Adam helpfully agrees to verify that Martin didn’t just make up something. “He told me.”

Aidan drops his head into his hands in defeat and curses his big mouth when Richard’s expression returns to anger. You just can’t tell Adam anything!

“So this is not something only he and I know. Everyone could have read that post on Facebook and asked him how the story ended.” 

“Well, there’s more,” Martin says and turns around in the direction of Aidan’s voice. “Isn’t there?”

“Uh, I guess,” Aidan shrugs his shoulders. It is really difficult to come up with something that only the two of them know.

“I was always worried that you would find someone smarter than me and leave. Or failing that, go back to be with Graham.” Even though it is a big confession for Aidan there is a snort of laughter coming from his friends once Martin finished.

“Everyone knows that,” Graham says and it annoys Aidan that they don’t take him seriously.

“Fine,” he huffs and moves a little closer to Martin. For some reason he feels like he needs to whisper this secret, even though no one else can hear him.

“Do you really want me to say that?”

“Yes,” Aidan replies defiantly. 

“Great.” Martin has a slight grin on his face, when he addresses Richard once again. “Richard, you won’t kiss Aidan after he blew you. Unless we are talking about a toddler with ice-cream situation that’s really not the way to show grati…”

“Out!” Richard barks. “I won’t let you insult me! Get out!”

“No!” Aidan yells and in an outburst of emotion swipes a few bottles and glasses off the coffee table. “No! Shut up and listen to him for fuck’s sake! I’m here! I’m real and you are going to have to deal with that now!”

He stares at the pieces of glass and stains of red wine on the carpet almost as surprised as everyone else.

“How did you do that?” Richard whispers, his voice almost too low to be heard. 

“It wasn’t me!”

Aidan watches Richard very carefully for a sign that he finally believes Martin. That he can finally say all the things he needs to say.

“All right, then. All right.” Richard rubs his face with both hands and turns around for a moment before looking at Martin again. “All right. He is here, right now?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. There is one story you can’t know. He wouldn’t have told anyone and I know I haven’t told anyone. Tell me what happened in Italy.”

“Aw, no, Richard. Come on, no. Weren’t the special effects enough?” Aidan pleads. 

“Not good enough.” Richard shakes his head, once Martin repeated the question for him. 

“I can talk about something else. There are things only I know, I…”

“Just tell the damn story.” Martin is starting to sound a little annoyed.

“It’s really embarrassing.”

“You’re a ghost! What do you care?”

Surprisingly, Aidan feels trapped by the sudden attention. Everyone is waiting now for this outrageous story that he never wanted to share with anyone. He made Richard swear that they would both take the incident to their graves and he meant it. After pacing the room a few times he has made up his mind. Technically he did take the story to his grave and if this is what it takes to make Richard believe in him then he would have to go for it and reveal his personal nightmare.

“It was our summer holiday two years ago. We had a rental car and we were doing a roadtrip through the south of Europe. It was one of those really, really hot days when we decided to take the Passo Dello Stelvio. It is a mountain pass that has 48 hairpin turns and is supposedly very beautiful. I wouldn’t know.” He pauses to check if this might be enough for Richard, but he doesn’t seem satisfied yet. “So we started out and it was really hot and the road was a little bumpy, a little curvy, but nothing too bad until we hit the fourth or fifth hairpin. I noticed that I was starting to feel a little ill. But I wasn’t hungover and I never get carsick, so I didn’t mention it. Well, I didn’t until the ninth or tenth bend, because by that time I knew what was going to happen. So I asked Richard if we could possibly stop at the next emergency bay and just as the word left my mouth… my breakfast followed. I was sick all over myself like a fucking child.”

He can feel himself dying again, but this time from embarrassment. When he looks at the faces staring at Martin in amazement, he really wonders if convincing Richard was worth telling this story.

“While I was a mess, sitting there not even able to move because I was so mortified and covered in puke and unable to say anything but “sorry”, Richard was super efficient. Honestly,” he turns to Richard with an affectionate smile, “you were brilliant.”

There is a little hesitant smile on Richard’s face as well, even though he doesn’t seem to be sure if he should smile at Martin or not.

“Anyway, so we stopped, the car and I got both cleaned up as much as possible and after a little break and a fresh T-Shirt I felt well enough to carry on. For the next two bends, at least. I managed to get my head out of the window that time, but it still sucked. We stopped again as soon as possible and I was sick once more. Much to the delight of the family of four taking pictures of the Alps. I swear, I have never felt this bad and disgusting and sweaty and sticky in my entire life. But, there’s more. I used all of our bottled water to clean up, and you all know that it is even worse to have an empty stomach when your body just wants to go ‘look what I can do’, but Richard found a bottle of piss warm red Gatorade which was at least something. He also found a clear zip lock bag for me. Because the road was so narrow and dangerous walking the rest of the way wasn’t an option for me, so I got back in the car with my drink and my bag and, let me tell you, red Gatorade looks like blood when it comes out again. So on top of everything, even though I know it’s just food colouring, I keep thinking that I might be bleeding to death. I was shaking and crying, like, full on sobbing, and I don’t know how, but we made it off that mountain eventually. Thirty-five turns later. And that is the story I never wanted any of you to hear.”

He looks around at the faces that are somewhere stuck between amusement at the story and horror at the thought that there might be the ghost of their dead friend hanging around.

“What happened next?” Richard is white as a sheet and looks like _he_ is about to be sick. “After we got off the mountain, got you some water to drink and you had time to relax and walk around for a bit? What happened?”

Aidan looks at his feet bashfully. Yeah, it wasn’t his proudest moment.

“I got us ice cream.” He lifts his head again to look at Richard and he can see when the realisation hits him. When he starts to believe the words leaving Martin’s mouth and he actually opens himself up to the possibility that this isn’t a joke or a prank or a con. His face looks almost twisted as several emotions try to break out of him all at once. 

“Aid,” he whispers and for the first time since he became a ghost, Aidan wishes no one would hear him, because of the way his voice breaks when he tries to say “I love you, Richard” back.


	9. He Greeted Death As An Old Friend

Chaos ensues. Everyone seems to be talking at the same time, everyone trying to make sense of what is going on. They bombard Aidan with questions and have Martin struggling to repeat his replies. 

“Enough!” he shouts with enough authority to make everyone shut up instantaneously. “That’s better.” He rubs his temples before he continues in a much calmer tone. “Richard, Aidan wants to know if there is anything you would like to ask.”

Richard has kept quiet so far with his eyes fixed on the empty spot in the room that Martin seemed to turn to when he speaks, in hopes of catching a glimpse of anything ghost-like. Anything from just the smallest flicker to a floating bed sheet.

“I… uhm, well…,” Richard begins awkwardly, but is interrupted by Graham.

“We should leave the two, or rather three of you alone to talk for a bit,” he says and pulls Adam up from the sofa with him and gestures for Ryan to follow him as well. “Come on.”

“Thanks,” Richard waits until they close the door behind them and the room goes quiet. He reaches for his wine glass and fills it and drains it at once. Without bothering to taste and distinguish the many flavours it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. There are a million things he wants to say and ask. 

In his dreams he talks to Aidan all the time, but he never thought he would have the opportunity to actually do it ever again, so his mind has gone completely blank.

“Are you okay?” The question sounds so empty, it makes him cringe, but it is the one thing he needs to know. He needs to know that Aidan is well and happy.

“You know me,” Martin says, “I’m always okay.” The words are so spot on Aidan, it hurts to hear them from someone else’s mouth.

“No, really,” Richard insists. “Are you okay?”

There is a small pause before the response comes from Martin… Aidan. Richard rubs his eyes to keep focussed in spite of all the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He doesn’t want to sit here and chat. He wants Aidan back.

“Obviously, I wish I wasn’t dead. It’s a bit lonely. And I hate what it is doing to you, Richard. To all of you. I never wanted anyone to be so miserable because of me. But… but I guess it could be worse. It’s not like I’m being tortured in hell. Not really.”

Richard nods his head slowly. He can imagine that it must be quite upsetting for Aidan to see his friends mourn him. He only wishes he could hear Aidan’s voice and the little chuckle he knows would have been there just after he said that it could be worse. He wishes he could see him, betting that the slope of his eyebrows changed direction at least three times during the short explanation.

“It’s okay, though. This party is showing that no one is going to be sad forever. I bet some of them don’t even remember why you invited them in the first place. They probably thought it was a pre-New Year’s party or something. Everyone is moving on and that’s good.”

This time Richard shakes his head resolutely. 

“I’m not. I’m not moving on. I won’t let you…” he pauses and rests his forehead on his folded hands for a moment. “I won’t let you be forgotten. I won’t let your memory die as well.”

He hates how the words come out. Nothing sounds right, nothing comes close to describing the emptiness he feels. It isn’t even the sadness anymore that had a hold of him for so long. There is nothing left and somehow that is even worse.

“He wants you to know that he is sitting down on the table in front of you,” Martin explains, making Richard look up again. Once again he can’t see anything, just one of the bottles that were knocked over before doing a half turn on the otherwise entirely still table. “Hey, I _want_ you to remember me, but I want them to be happy memories. I want you to say my name with a smile, like, remember when Aidan got so piss drunk he texted his _mother_ that he thought he was pregnant?”

Richard wants to smile at the images popping up in his head of that particular night, but he knows that he won’t be able to smile ever again. How could he?

“Is this you?” His attention is drawn to his hand that suddenly feels cold.

“Yes. I’m touching your hand.”

Fascinated, Richard watches goosebumps appearing on his arm. He remembers countless times feeling a peculiar type of cold that he always blamed on air conditioning and drafts even though deep down he knew that that wasn’t it. 

“Every time I’ve felt this eerie cold, it was you?” 

“I’m sorry.” Aidan must have pulled away, because Richard’s hand starts to warm up again. “I didn’t realise you’d find it creepy.”

“No,” Richard replies quickly, cursing himself for his poor choice of words. And even if it were the most unsettling thing sensation in the world, he doesn’t want it to stop. “I only meant that I was feeling cold without a reason. It’s not eerie, it’s not creepy. Now that I know it’s you, it’s good. Please, do it again!”

He extends his arm and is relieved to feel cold again. He can almost picture Aidan, sitting in front of him now, holding his hand gently. 

“I can’t really grab and hold you, or feel you,” Aidan explains, “but this is nice, isn’t it? Just the thought that I might?”

“Yes, it’s wonderful,” Richard replies, trying to sound convincing. As nice as it is to almost be able to feel Aidan’s touch again, it is also a painful reminder of what he can never have. He holds out his other hand to where he thinks Aidan’s head might be and there he can feel it too. It isn’t solid, but the air is definitely colder. It is a bit like swimming in the see and encountering these unexplained pockets of cooler water that just appear and disappear in one stroke. 

He drops the hand again and rests his forehead against his palm once again, unable to speak. What could he possibly say? 

“This is a bit awkward, isn’t it?”

“Did you say that, or Martin?” It is hard to judge from Martin’s expression, which has been showing discomfort the entire time.

“Both of us,” Martin replies. “He said it, but I agree.”

Richard has to agree as well. Having Martin there might be necessary, but Richard simply can’t say what he needs to say with him there. None of it is any of Martin’s business. 

“You’ll never guess who I caught making out in the bathroom today,” Martin says for Aidan in an attempt to keep the conversation going. 

They keep it light and casual and it makes Richard want to die. Here he is, speaking to his deceased partner, possibly for the last time and all they talk about is their friends snogging. It is a shame, but he doesn’t want it to stop, either. He always loved simply talking to Aidan and getting his opinion on things when he was still alive, so this is good, he tells himself and plays along until a knock on the door interrupts them and Adam pokes his head in.

“Sorry to barge in on you. We were just wondering if we could possibly…” He makes a vague gesture that Richard interprets as “come in and talk to Aidan”, so he nods his head.

“Yes, of course, please, come in.”

His friends all ask excellent questions and Richard feels embarrassed that he didn’t manage to come up with as much as “what is it like to be a ghost?”.

 

“Could we take a break?” Martin exhales slowly and rubs his hand over his face and his eyes. He looks dead tired and Richard almost feels a little sorry for him.

“You know what we should do?” Adam speaks up after a moment of silence. “Maybe, well, I don’t know, Aidan could try and, kind of, possess someone. That way Martin wouldn’t have to translate all the time. Do you think that’s possible?”

“Until an hour ago we all thoughts ghosts were impossible,” Graham replies thoughtfully and with Aidan confirming that he is definitely up for it, Adam pulls out his phone to google the best way to get the job done. 

They allow Aidan to attempt to possess every one of them, but even with Martin, whom all of them considered to be their best shot, it is no success.

“Maybe we’d have more luck if we could get Richard out of his body?” Adam suggests, still not ready to give up. “Like, I don’t know, a trance, or sub-space?”

“Adam, you sly, little devil, how do you know about sub-space?” The way Graham looks at Adam is a mixture between astonishment and intrigue. Adam shrugs his shoulders a little bashfully.

“Aidan would like to know that as well,” Martin says. “And if you went there it with the fit lad who delivered the flowers for the funeral.” 

“What? No! Aidan! It wasn’t like that!” Adam protests and shrugs his shoulders. “I just know a few things…” 

“Can we get back to the issue at hand?” Richard interrupts. He really likes the idea of an outer-body experience to see Aidan one more time. “How about killing me?” When he sees the shocked faces of his friends he quickly adds, “Just a little bit. Just so much that you could revive me.” He doesn’t say the “or not” that has been on the tip of his tongue out loud.

“Absolutely not! That was Aidan and I have to say, I agree with the ghost. This was all fun until now,” Martin pauses to give everyone the chance to pick up on the sarcasm, “but I am not here for murder.”

His friends are quick to agree and Richard looks at each and every one of them through narrowed eyes. It is infuriating that no one is willing to at least entertain the idea that his plan might work. He thinks it is genius. If he died and was revived, there was no harm done and if he wasn’t revived, well, he could live with that as well. Proverbially. 

“Look, this is really emotional, but we shouldn’t…”

“You’re right, of course.” Richard cuts Graham off with a forced look of remorse on his face. “My apologies for suggesting it. I think I’m just tired and I have this headache.” He raises his empty glass at as an attempt at an explanation. “Please, everybody, stay and chat, finish the drinks and there’s still plenty of food in the kitchen. It’s pretty late, so if anyone wants to stay over you are more than welcome. The couch, my bed, it’s all yours. I’ll sleep in the study tonight.”

He gets up and heads towards the door, but stops. He doesn’t turn around, but stares into the dark hallway instead. His heart is thumping in his chest and his hand is wrapped around the doorframe so tightly it hurts. 

“Aidan, will you be here tomorrow?”

“Try and stop me,” Martin says. “I love you.”

“Yes,” Richard replies, absent minded, but then reminds himself sell it. “I love you, too.” He turns just enough to show a hint of a fake smile and then steps out into the hallway. He closes the door and listens.

“Should anyone go after him?” Adam asks, exactly as Richard expected he would.

“I’ll check up on him in a little bit,” Graham says. “Let’s give him a moment. This has been a lot to digest.”

Having friends that are utterly predictable has its upsides, Richard thinks, relieved that he won’t be bothered for a little while, but that someone will make sure he is okay later on. He walks into the bathroom and goes straight to the medicine cabinet. 

He sees the box of sleeping pills his doctor prescribed after Aidan’s death immediately and after a bit of rummaging around the cabinet he also finds the over-the-counter ones that are most likely expired. Sleeping pills aren’t something he or Aidan used frequently. He pulls the little plastic strips containing the pills out of the boxes and takes a moment to look at them. He has read in articles that it is rather difficult to commit suicide by taking sleeping pills nowadays and he is okay with that. He would be more than happy to end his life right now. There is nothing left to live for. The love of his life is gone and he won’t ever find anyone like Aidan ever again. Even more than that, he doesn’t want to invest time into finding someone who might, at some point, bring him even a fraction of the happiness he felt with Aidan and then leave him again. He couldn’t bear it. But if the pills won’t kill him that’s okay as well. He doesn’t need to die, he just needs to get as close to death as possible and mixing the prescription and non-prescription pills seems like the way to do it.

It is a logical thought but as he starts to press the pills out of the pack into his palm, he notices that his hands are shaking. He considers turning his hand around, dumping the pills in the sink and washing them down the drain. Walking away from it now, never telling anyone and moving on. His head is telling him to do it, that his logic is flawed and it is a pretty long shot in the first place, but his heart tells him to continue. He has to try. If all he needs is a really deep, deep sleep, than this is his best option. And if it doesn’t work, if he won’t be able to leave his body then he can still take another shot at it and jump of the bridge another night.

“For him,” Richard says to his reflection, looking himself dead in the eyes while he squeezes the rest of the pills out of their packaging. His first impulse is to stuff them in his mouth all at once before he can reconsider halfway through and mess up the plan, but he realises that it is almost impossible to do that, so he walks into the kitchen instead and dumps the entire handful into the mortar to crush them.

There is a half a bottle of Vodka on the counter and Richard takes it gladly. Figuring that the vodka will not only disguise the bitter flavour of the pills, but also help him pass out more quickly.

 

“What do you think about… ah, sorry, I keep forgetting, only yes or no questions. Do you think Graham should ask me out on a date on New Years Eve?”

Aidan doesn’t hesitate for a second to tap Adam’s right hand for “yes”. Adam and Graham are clearly attracted to each other and that’s all that is important. Life’s too short and had he known how little time he had when he first met Richard, Aidan would never have wasted so much of it afraid of commitment. He wishes he could tell Adam, but Martin has left, so it has to wait. He is just glad to have this basic level of communication with Adam. With all his worrying about Richard, he never realised how much he missed his friend.

“He said yes,” Adam grins.

“I don’t need a ghosts to get a date, so how about no pulse no opinion?” Graham responds, only pretending to be annoyed but also unable to keep a smile off his face.

“How about you two go and get a room and let me ask the questions,” Ryan suggests and Aidan wants to agree. They should really go and get the sexual tension out of their system, because the way these two act around each other is just too damn sweet.

He catches a movement from the corner of his eye and is delighted to see that Richard has come back and joined them after all. Out of sheer force of habit, he gives Richard a little smile. Only this time, Richard smiles back and if Aidan hadn’t been dead, his heart would have skipped a beat. Did Richard just see him?

He raises his hand hesitatingly and waves. Richard copies the gesture and mouths “hi”.

“It doesn’t seem to work with me,” Ryan complains after having received no response from Aidan to a question he didn’t even hear.

“Let me try again,” Adam offers. “Aidan, are you still here?”

Without breaking eye contact with Richard, Aidan reaches for Adam’s left hand, no, and after that, his friend is entirely forgotten. He only cares about one person.

“Can you see me?” Aidan asks, whispering the words to himself, almost afraid to say them out loud. Richard nods and then smiles.

“You’re just as beautiful as I remembered,” he says and with that there is no holding back Aidan. With a joyful yelp he leaps right through the armchair separating them and throws his arms around Richard’s neck. For a second he expects them to go through him as well, but he can feel Richard. Solid and strong.

“Oh my God, Richard! Oh my God!” He presses a series of kisses onto Richard’s neck and cheek. He can feel him, taste him, smell him and he is never going to let go of him. “I’ve missed you so, so much!” He buries his head in Richard’s shoulder.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Richard’s grasp tightens around Aidan’s waist, his other hand cradling the back of his head as he gently rocks him in his arms. “You can’t even imagine.”

“Oh my God,” Aidan says again after enjoying the feeling of holding Richard again for a moment. He gently pushes away from him, just far enough to look into Richard’s eyes. For the first time in weeks they have their light back and after running his hand lovingly through Richard’s hair, he leans in to kiss him. It is a soft kiss at first, lips brushing against each other, warm but slightly timid. Worried that with a poof of smoke it would all turn out to be a dream. But Richard’s nose is pressing against his cheek and Aidan argues that he would not think about that in a dream. Tentatively he parts his lips and responds by pulling him even closer and making a deep, groaning sound in the back of his throat that makes Aidan’s knees weak.

He allows the kiss to go on for longer than he intended, allows it to become hungry and desperate before he breaks away from Richard. He wishes they didn’t have to speak right now, he wishes they could just continue to kiss forever. He wishes he didn’t have to ask, but now that he is certain that this isn’t a dream there is no way around it.

“What did you do?” he whispers and, afraid of hearing the answer, goes in for another kiss.

“Don’t worry about it,” Richard replies, even though it is the worst thing he could have said, because _now_ Aidan worries.

“Did you do the thing Adam suggested?”

“Pretty much.” There is a small pause. “Only, I thought my idea would work better.”

“Your idea?” Aidan repeats slowly and then raises his eyes to meet Richard’s. When he speaks again, he emphasises every word. “What did you do?”

“Why do you need to know? I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“No,” Aidan shakes his head decisively. “Please tell me you didn’t kill yourself. Richard?”

“I didn’t kill myself.” There is something off. Richard has never been a good liar and he sounds too casual now, almost laughing it off. He would never have done that. He would never have laughed about Aidan’s worries before and Aidan doesn’t buy it now. 

Aidan slips free of Richard’s arm entirely. 

“Then what did you do?” He walks out of the living room and into the bedroom, which he finds empty. 

“I took a few pills,” Richard admits in a calming tone and Aidan almost wants to punch him in the face. He would give anything to be alive again and Richard just throws his life away casually. To channel his rage, Aidan storms into the bathroom, but there are only empty boxes there. 

“A _few_ pills? More like a few boxes!” 

“But I didn’t do it to kill myself. I just wanted to knock myself out properly to be with you. I did it for you.”

Aidan throws him a livid look as he storms past him and into the study where he stops dead in his movement.

“No! Don’t you dare say you did this for me. You don’t get to blame this on me,” he yells, more panicked than angry now at the sight in front of him. 

Richard has slipped out of his chair and onto the ground. His lips have turned blue and his body is seizing and twitching, gagging and gasping for air.


	10. Everyone Deserves a Death

“Well, that’s not what I intended,” Richard begins and he seems genuinely shocked by the sight. Enough at least for Aidan to believe that it may not have been his ultimate plan to die. It doesn’t change the fact, though, that his idea was incredibly stupid and it also doesn’t make Aidan any less furious. “But I suppose if that’s...”

“No! You don’t get to talk to me right now,” Aidan snaps. He doesn’t understand why Richard would do something quite this stupid. He was always a bit of a romantic, sure, and he read all these books that had people dying for their beloved, but that was fiction! Richard couldn’t possibly think that it was okay to do that in real life.

Unless it was. Aidan wavers for a second. He has been terribly lonely and here was his opportunity to have Richard back, forever. He glances at the man - the ghost - standing next to him. It would be wonderful, it would be everything he could ask for to have Richard by his side again, but would he be able to live with that? Could he be happy knowing that he let Richard die?

Realising that the answer to the question is ‘no’ shakes Aidan out of the state of shock that momentarily paralysed his judgement and he curses under his breath. Way too much time has been wasted already.

He darts back into the living room. Ryan has fallen asleep in a very uncomfortable position in the armchair, while Adam and Graham have moved their snogging into a rather horizontal position on the couch.

“Adam,” he shouts uselessly and taps his shoulder urgently. “Come on, Adam!”

He tries again, touching Adam’s waist this time, where his shirt has become untucked from his trousers and ridden up a bit.

“Your hands are really cold,” Adam whispers between kisses. Graham apologizes immediately and takes his hands away.

“No, I like it,” Adam responds, resulting in Graham’s hands all over him again, ruining Aidan’s chance to try again. Clearly Adam has shut him out entirely as if they hadn’t just spent an hour using the fact that Aidan’s touch feels cold to their advantage.

“Seriously?” Desperate to get some attention, Aidan turns to the table and sweeps the last remaining glass onto the floor where it shatters.

“Was that you?” Graham mutters against Adam’s lips.

“I don’t think so,” Adam replies. He pulls away from Graham to inspect whether he could possibly have kicked anything off the table accidentally.

There is little black pot with a green plant in it sitting on the shelf. Aidan lunges at it and pushes it off the shelf. A bottle of Redbreast Whiskey Aidan gave Richard for Valentine’s Day goes next. He doesn’t care that it bursts into pieces as it hits the ground. It’s not like there is anyone around to enjoy it, should he fail. 

“Aidan?”

“Just let me sleep!” Ryan groans and sits up in the armchair with a grimace. “What are you two doing?” 

“It’s Aidan. He’s upset because he thinks we were going to have sex on the couch. That was our one rule when we were roommates. No one was supposed to have sex on the couch. Even though he broke that rule more times than I did. Just saying. But we weren’t going to…”

He is interrupted by Aidan pushing over a floorlamp. He had no idea his friends were so daft. He also has no idea how to tell them what is going on.

“Aidan, it’s okay. Really.” Richard has watched quietly so far, but now he approaches Aidan, slowly, his hands stretched out in front of him, like he would approach a scared animal. It is exactly how Aidan feels as he stands there, trembling with emotion.

He looks Richard in the eye and for a second he believes that it is actually okay. He tried, he reasons with himself, but then he shakes his head at Richard. He hasn’t tried nearly enough.

“I’m not going to let you die, Richard, I’m sorry,” he says and walks past him back to the study. This is all his fault. Eventually Richard would have been all right. It may have taken time, but he would have gotten over Aidan and because Aidan couldn’t accept that he just had to pop up and ruin the whole process. He couldn’t have left him alone, he couldn’t have just let go of him. If Richard died, it was on him and he had been right to blame Aidan for his actions after all.

Richard’s body is lying in the same position as before, but the seizing and gasping is much less noticeable now.

“Hang in there, okay?” He goes for the lamp, but when he tries to throw it off the desk, his hand goes right through. 

“No, come on, not now!” The destruction in the living room has taken a toll on him, and left him feel weak and thinner, like a soup with too much water in it, but he refuses to give up now. He only needs to make a little more noise to get his friends to check what is going on. He takes a second to focus his remaining strength and tries again and again, but the lamp doesn’t even sway. 

“I can’t do it, Richard, I’m so sorry.” With his head hanging he turns to the dying man. “I can’t save you.”

He can barely look at him without welling up. Without feeling ashamed of failing again. No matter how hard he tried, he never got anything right, not even when it mattered the most. The only thing he ever managed to accomplish was to get Richard to like him and now he is letting him die.

He jumps at the enormous crash coming from behind him. When he turns around he finds the computer monitor on the ground with Richard standing next to it. He gives Aidan a small nod that speaks volumes. It tells Aidan that Richard didn’t do that to save himself. He did it for Aidan.

“Thank you,” Aidan whispers just before Adam appears.

“Aidan, what are you up to?” he groans, slightly annoyed, but then sees Richard and his blue face and twitching limbs and screams.

Adam continues to scream until Graham and Ryan come barging in.

“Adam, get out of here,” Graham barks after taking one look at the scene. “Call an ambulance. Ryan, help me.”

Entirely worn-out by everything that has happened, Aidan sinks down onto the floor and watches as Graham and Ryan roll Richard on his side. A bunch of viscous liquid comes out of his mouth as they turn him and pools on the wooden floor.

“Richard? Can you hear me?” Graham shakes his shoulders roughly and yells at him, clearly just as frightened as everyone else to lose his friend.

“Choking on my own vomit, that’s not how I imagined dying.” Richard sits down next to Aidan.

“Well, let’s hope it won’t come to that,” Aidan replies in a cold tone, without even looking at Richard. Yes, he is scared and angry bur most of all, he is blaming himself. He needs to watch the scene in front of him to really understand that he is not good for Richard. If he looks at the man next to him he worries that he might forget and that he might fall for the fantasy that this could actually work.

“There is an ambulance on the way,” Adam announces as he rushes back into the study. “This is really bad, I think he did it on purpose. These were in the bathroom. ” He holds up the empty pill-boxes.

“You did not!” Graham shakes Richard one more time. “You stupid, stupid man!” He drapes Richard’s arm over his shoulder and pulls him up with him as he gets up to his feet.

“What are you going to do?” Ryan asks and holds Richard up by his other arm without even waiting for a reply.

“I have no idea,” Graham replies. “I saw this in a film once.”

Aidan and Richard follow them into the bathroom. Even if Graham has no clue what he is doing as he lifts Richard’s lifeless body into the bathtub, he sure as hell is trying and Aidan is incredibly grateful for it. 

He gets into the tub with Richard holding him up, while he is sticking his fingers in his mouth in an attempt to get whatever is left of the pills in his stomach and to free his airway, Ryan showers him with cool water in hopes of waking him up that way, but he remains entirely unresponsive.

“I can’t watch this anymore. Excuse me.” Richard’s voice sounds choked as it finally sinks in what he has done and how it affects the people in his life.

“Rich,” Aidan begins and grabs his hand before he can walk away. He might be trying to get some distance, but whatever the outcome of this is going to be, Richard doesn’t deserve to go through it alone.

“It’s fine. Stay here. I have to think, that’s all.”

“Don’t think too hard, you know it’ll give you wrinkles.” It was something he said to Richard many times before and he can see the pain on his face as he says it now. “Sorry.”

Richards nods slowly and he doesn’t have to work hard to get his hand out of Aidan’s grip. It just kind of slips through his fingers.

 

“There you are! Jesus, it’s freezing up here!”

“Do you actually feel the cold? Because I don’t.”

“No.” Aidan shakes his head sheepishly and moves a little closer to the edge of the hospital roof where Richard is sitting. When he was alive he wasn’t a big fan of heights but now he finds that it doesn’t bother him anymore. He actually thinks it’s kind of cool to look down onto the road from the top of twelve-or –so storey building. The trees along the river are covered in Christmas Lights and everything looks just a little bit more magical than it would any other time of the year.

He can see the river, the London Eye, Big Ben and Westminster Abbey all at once and he thinks he should have gone to the hospital more often when he was a live. It is basically a sightseeing trip. Then again, he should have done a lot of things when he was alive.

“Are you still angry with me?”

Without a response Aidan sits down as well and lets his feet dangle off the building.

“Because I get it. I deserve it.”

No, Aidan thinks, you don’t deserves it. He doesn’t say it out loud, though. What Richard did, he did for him and it was stupid, but it shows how much Richard feels for him. He is angry, but not at Richard. At himself, he just can’t admit that. So instead of saying anything, he leans in a little closer, touching his forehead against Richard’s temple, before he uses his hand to turn Richard’s head towards him. He kisses him, soft and comforting in a way words would never be.

“I was dumb and selfish,” Richard continues, once they pull away from each other and Aidan lets his head hang and shakes it slowly. Every word Richard says breaks his heart. How could anything Richard did for love be considered selfish? The only one who had been selfish all along had been Aidan. So desperate to talk to Richard, so desperate to stop him from healing and moving on.

He wraps his arms around Richard and hides his face in the crook of his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against his skin. “I shouldn’t have contacted you. I thought it would help, I thought… no, honestly, I didn’t think. I just wanted you to know that I hadn’t left you and that I still love you.”

“I love you, too.” 

“Aren’t you scared?”

“No.” Richard pulls Aidan into his arm and holds him like that for a while. Quietly they sit next to each other, because there are no words left to say. They sit long enough for the city to start waking up very slowly. Lights are switched on behind curtains and blinds and eventually cars appear on the quiet, dark streets.

“The things you said to Ryan about moving to the country and, you know, getting married, did you really mean that or was it just, I don’t know, rose-coloured glasses?”

“I meant every word. I actually had a ring picked out, but then I thought you’d find a ring extremely lame, so instead I was going to make an engagement donation to the animal rescue center. And if you were into it, I was even thinking about getting an engagement puppy.” 

All Aidan can do is hug Richard as tightly as possible. He has never heard of an engagement puppy or an engagement donation but the fact that Richard took into consideration that Aidan wasn’t really into jewellery and tried to work with that is just so typical and one of the many reasons he loved him so much.

“You are the perfect man.” Aidan gives Richard’s cheek another kiss, trying to sound upbeat and happy, but his heart is heavy in his chest. He didn’t want to face the truth, but he knows now what he has to do. “And that is why I have to let you go. You have so much more to live for, trust me.”

“Aidan, no, I…”

“No, don’t say anything right now. Ever since you told Ryan that story about the little house by the sea I felt like… I need to get there. I feel like that place is calling my name, you know?” Actually he felt like he needed to be somewhere else for a while, but he never knew where he was supposed to go. All he could see was Richard. All he wanted to do was be with him and now he feel like he has a destination. A place to be while he waits for Richard. He brushes his thumb over Richard’s lips to keep him from responding. “Remember when we visited my parents and then drove up to Laytown? I think that’s where I need to go.”

He can tell from Richard’s face that he is puzzled. He doesn’t fully get it himself and he doesn’t know why. Laytown is a nice little village on the north-eastern coast of Ireland, overlooking the Irish Sea. It isn’t a particularly beautiful place, certainly not one of the top spots in Ireland, but it has a beach and it is close to home, close to Dublin. It has a very calm, quiet vibe and he remembers having one of the best days there with Richard.

“I’ll wait there for you, even if you live to be a hundred years old.” He nods reassuringly.

“Why wait? We can go there right now.”

Aidan bites his bottom lip and looks away into the dawn just rising in pale pink over the skyline. The first light of day makes the steel and glass structures of London glow and glisten.

“You’re down there on live-support. They haven’t given you up, yet. You can go back and be happy and have a life. You should go back and not think about me until you’re, like, ninety and ready to go for real.”

Aidan gets up on his feet and balances a few steps away from Richard on the edge of the building.

“I don’t want to,” Richard says quietly and it breaks Aidan’s heart to hear that _he_ has truly given up.

“I promise, I’ll wait for you,” Aidan repeats. “But you have to go.” Richard’s face looks so beautiful in the soft light of the new day and Aidan wishes he could stay here with him forever, but he is feeling weaker and weaker as they speak. He can feel how he is being pulled away, but cannot leave. “You have to let me go, Richard.”

The words come out before he can think about it. It is the reason he is still here. He couldn’t let go of Richard until now and Richard couldn’t let go of him and that is what is keeping him here.

“I can’t, Aidan, I can’t!” His voice is breaking and he turns away to wipe his eyes with his hands.

“Please, Richard,” Aidan walks back to him and holds his face gently between his palms. He can see the stubble on Richard’s cheek shining though his hands and he knows that if Richard doesn’t let him leave, he will just disappear. He will be even less than a ghost. He will fade into nothing. He can feel it. “Please let me go. I’ve been here for too long. I overstayed my welcome and whatever is out there is getting impatient. Go back into your body and be happy. I want you to find a nice bloke and have a wonderful life and then you’ll come back to me.”

He kisses Richard’s lips once again and finally, barely noticeable, he nods his head.

“Thank you,” Aidan breathes. The terrible feeling of getting torn into too many directions is gone and when he looks up, he can see the beach and the little houses along the shore. He can hear seagulls and waves crashing into the sand. Maybe it is his imagination or maybe it’s the tears in his mouth, but he thinks he can also taste salt on the wind.

“Now, do I need to come downstairs with you so you’ll actually do it?”

This time Richard shakes his head and Aidan gives him one final kiss. Not desperate, not sad, just a promise.

“Thank you,” he says again and he finally feels free. He doesn’t worry about Richard, his friends and his family anymore. He knows that he will see them again. He just has to be there when they arrive.

“I love you,” he whispers and runs his hands through Richard’s hair one last time before he turns around. And just as the sun breaks through the horizon, he starts walking. Off the building, but he doesn’t fall. He floats and eventually, when reaches his beach, everyone he loves is there already, only waiting for him to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it. I hope everyone's happy.  
> The story was actually supposed to be my entry for entry for the [Hobbitbigbang on Livejournal](http://hobbitbigbang.livejournal.com/) challenge. But because it took me 10 months to write I only missed the deadline by 6 months or so...  
> If you are a writer or an artist or a cheerleader or beta reader, please consider joining us for the next round starting in December! You can follow us on [Livejournal](http://hobbitbigbang.livejournal.com/) or on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ljhobbitbigbang).
> 
> Anyway, my point was... I still made artwork in the form of a fanmix for the story and i felt like sharing, so here we go. [My Only Sunshine Fanmix](http://peach-offering.livejournal.com/24192.html)


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